


The Exordium

by ShadowJaySmith



Series: Alternate Supernatural [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Family Drama, Major Original Character(s), Men of Letters have questionable practices, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Psychic Abilities, Sam Deals With Things, Slow Burn, discussions about the ethics of using supernatural powers, family trauma, sibling dynamics, some liberties taken with mythology, the lore!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowJaySmith/pseuds/ShadowJaySmith
Summary: Set in season 9, after Gadreel leaves Sam's body: Sam struggles to cope with the pain of losing Kevin and his anger towards Dean. On his quest to find the spell that would let him track Gadreel, he discovers a large part of the Men of Letters archive to be missing, including the theoretical spell for tracking angels. When he follows the clues to find the missing rest of the archive, Sam comes across the Ianson Library. An eclectic collection of supernatural lore, this mysterious library begins to draw Sam’s suspicion and his curiosity.(This is a series that strives to include more women and queer characters that do not get brutally murdered, but actually enhance the emotional growth of all characters involved thank you goodbye.)
Relationships: Sam Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Alternate Supernatural [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197026





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello.  
> So, I stopped watching Supernatural after they killed Charlie (who, just as a side-note, is NOT going to die in this version, thank you very much). Then, I watched the confession scene from 15x18 and I cried a lot. I then watched the next two episodes with minimal understanding of what was currently happening in the show, and was maximally disappointed. Personally, I felt spurned both by the plot holes and the disregard for the larger found-family the Winchesters created. It seems simplistic to me that the show be just all about them and their relationship, when being so co-dependent is ultimately harmful to all parties. I also really hate what they did to Dean. He had been saying since season one that he was going to die hunting, and he had always seemed scared of this, and after all the writers put him through, they couldn't just give him the ending he rightfully deserved. I will be fixing this, and I will be broadening the relationships both Winchesters have to show that they no longer only have each other. I dusted off the characters I created when I was in seventh grade, and created a new character that will appear in part two.  
> This story is the first of a multi-part re-write of the series, with this piece acting as a preface to a re-writing of the 14th and 15th seasons. Amara deserved better, and I will make that happen, but for now, I will introduce you to the people that will help the Winchesters get the ending they deserved.

**PART ONE: THE ELDREDGE SIBLINGS**

  
Sam’s body ached, and he felt dizzy all the time, but he kept going. He was a man on a mission, and his plan today was to find anything he could on the after-effects of being possessed by an angel. Recently freed from a prison in his own mind, he sat in the Bunker’s library across from Castiel. A stack of books had been pushed to the side of the table in favor of what must have been thirty folders, all in disarray. 

They had come across a file a couple hours before that referenced a theoretical process the Men of Letters devised to use angel grace as the base for a tracking spell. Referenced also in the file was a tool needed to extract the grace and a detailed illustration of it. However, when Sam went to check where it was filed to have been, he found the shelf empty. So now he and Cas were trying to find where it might have been misfiled. They were having minimal luck.

Sam sighed, closing another file and tossing it onto the pile of already-read ones beside him, then grabbed another. Cas had been awfully quiet for the past twenty minutes, brow furrowed and perusing a folder.

“Sam.” Cas began, frowning at a file.

“You got something?” Sam sat up expectantly, closing the file he’d been skimming through.

“The note. In the margins.” He held out the paper for Sam to take. The rest of the file had been minimally useful, though this note referenced something Cas had never heard of.

“What do you think the ‘archivist’s index’ means?” Sam made a mildly mocking face, then looked up to see Cas lost in thought. “Cas?”

“Another file I was looking at—hold on.” He shuffled through a couple stacks of papers he had in front of him and then picked up a file, holding it out to Sam. “Look at the cover page.”

Sam read it aloud, “‘Comprehensive Digest of Angelic Grace and its Properties’?”

Cas made a face, “Keep going.”

Sam sighed and looked at the next line. “‘Filed by: Archivist D. Ianson’…”

Sam frowned, and stood, walking over to the cabinet in the library that held the records of membership, flipping through them until he came to the I’s, and then an entry for “IANSON, DURAND”.

“Says here that ‘D. Ianson’ was a guy named Durand. Durand Ianson.” Sam returned to the table, carrying the book to show Cas, “He was an archivist for the Men of Letters in the fifties, up until the Abaddon attack.”

“Did he die with the rest of them?” Cas asked.

“Don’t know.” Sam shook his head, “It seems like he dropped off the map right after the attack, though.” Sam closed the book for a moment, thinking. 

“Maybe the index’s location is in this man’s file?” Cas suggested, tentatively hopeful. 

Sam thought for a long moment, a frown on his face. “There’s actually a lot of stuff missing from the archives—stuff like this spell and other books and ledgers that should be there but aren’t. What if this guy knows where they are?”

“Well, Sam,” Cas frowned, “he’s probably long dead. It says there that he was born in 1919.”

“Right, but maybe that ‘index’ or whatever is with his stuff. Maybe his relatives have it?” Sam said hopefully.

After some thorough research, Sam found more information. Durand did not have any children and never married, but his younger brother, Magnus did. Magnus had two, the younger one being his only son, Tyler Ianson. It turned out that Tyler’s last-registered address was the same as his uncle Durand’s, leading Sam to conclude that Tyler was the heir to Durand’s things, which he felt was a safe guess. Upon further digging, however, he found that Tyler was also deceased, but he did have a child listed: Cathleen Eldredge. Sam also gained confidence from the fact that Cathleen seemed to still live in her father’s house. And, as an added bonus, they were only a couple hours’ drive away.

That same day, Sam and Cas made their way up the rickety steps of a victorian-era house that was in a slight state of decay. The porch wood creaked under them, and they shared a concerned look. Sam knocked on the door, the both of them pulling out their badges in preparation.

There was movement behind the door, then it opened, but only as far as the chain would allow, revealing a woman, probably in her early thirties. Her thick, waist-length, light-brown hair was twisted into a mildly messy bun at the back of her head, and her angular brows were furrowed into a preemptive scowl. She had dark brown eyes and wore a light blue henley over jeans and hiking boots. She looked back and forth between the two of them judgmentally, the sun illuminating a long, crooked scar that ran down the right side of her nose.

“What?” She asked gruffly, adjusting her grip on the door to reveal more of her hand, where she wore an intricate silvery ring on her third finger.

Sam blinked, glancing at Cas for a split-second, seeing him frowning at her. Sam cleared his throat and turned his focus back to her, holding up his badge.

“Uh, hi, special agents Hammond and Russel.” Sam said quickly, both he and Cas stowing the badges in sync. “Are you Cathleen Eldredge?”

She didn’t answer for a moment, then shifted her weight relaxing a little. “Why d’you wanna know?”

“We’re here about your great uncle, Durand Ianson.” Cas supplied.

“Uh-huh.” She seemed unimpressed.

“We were wondering if he had any boxes of files left around from his job?” Sam stuffed his hands in his coat pockets.

She looked back and forth between them for a moment. “Yeah, okay, no.”

“No?” Cas quirked a brow, genuinely surprised.

“No.” She replied matter-of-factly, staring him right in the eye, before turning back to Sam. “You got a warrant, kid?”

“I—” Sam swallowed, trying and failing to hide that he took some offense to that, “—No, we don’t, but it would be really helpful to us if you could—”

“—Don’t care what you would or would not find helpful, buckaroo.” She interrupted, “Now, I’ve got shit to do, so, uh, come on back when you two boys get a warrant or y’ bring in the cavalry.”

Sam blinked animatedly, and Cas frowned as she shut the door on them. For a moment, there was silence, and then Sam sighed. They both turned, beginning to walk back towards the car.

“I’m assuming we’re not going to come back with ‘the cavalry’ as she says.” Cas looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

“No.” Sam nodded, stopping at the driver’s-side door of the car, “But we _are_ coming back tonight.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in their car, parked just around the corner, where they could still see the house easily. They went back and forth between idle talk and silence. Cas was feeling a bit tense about this plan, to say the least. He understood that this was currently a difficult time for Sam and that his anger towards Dean and grief over Kevin was bound to make him a bit reckless, but this felt extreme.

“Sam, are you sure this is a good idea?” Cas asked for the third time. 

“ _Yes_.” Sam replied through his teeth.

They were waiting for there to be any other kind of opening in which they could break in. Finally, Cathleen came out of the front door, headphones in. She walked over to the car in her driveway and got in. As soon as she pulled away from the stop sign at the end of the street, Sam was out of the car, Cas on his heels.

At the back of the house, Sam picked the lock while Cas stood watch. The door opened into a dark back hall. Along the wall, there were three sets of rain boots, and a mess of other shoes, under a row of coat-hooks that had at least three pieces of outerwear on each hook. They stepped carefully. To the left, there was a doorway into a small office-like room, where there was a light left on. Across from it was the doorway into the kitchen, which led into the dining room, which had a doorway of its own near the front door. They continued down the corridor, coming to the entryway, where there was a staircase leading upstairs. Sam turned to look in what he assumed would be the living room, and paused, quirking a brow. 

This room was by far the most well-taken care of in the house. At the center, there was tastefully mismatched living room furniture, and the walls were covered with a sky-blue wallpaper decorated in dark blue acanthus leaves. The wallpaper was visible around the floor-to-ceiling, dark wood bookcases that took up almost every wall. Above them, the vaulted ceiling was held up by similar dark wood and painted the same sky blue as the wallpaper. The only noise in the room came from an ornate clock hanging off the wall in the back, ticking gently on.

For a moment, Sam and Cas were paused, taking in the room with confused awe. It was really quite beautiful, and it felt somewhat out of place in this house, which was a bit dingier. Sam also couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that there was something odd about this room—something sinister.

“This is a lovely way of incorporating Victorian-era architecture with early-nineteen-hundreds decorating sensibilities.” Cas said idly, looking around at the bookcase on his side of the doorway.

Sam frowned deeply, and turned to give Cas a quizzical look. Cas gave a sheepish shrug.

“When I was human, I went to the hospital once, and there was an interior-design magazine in the waiting room. I found it… fascinating.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply when he heard the familiar sound of a rifle cocking behind them.

“Cool story, dude.” An unfamiliar voice said.

Sam and Cas turned slowly around, raising their hands in surrender. It was a woman, a little younger than Cathleen, with dark hair, blue eyes, and a whole mess of earrings crawling up her ears. She looked a lot different from Cathleen, but there was a similarity to them that Sam couldn’t quite explain—perhaps it was in the nose or mouth, but he couldn’t be sure. She was also far taller than Cathleen—maybe even a little taller than Cas—dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. She held the gun like she knew what she was doing with it, and had a long necklace hanging to just below her breasts, the pendant of which was what looked like a jade ring he couldn’t quite make out the details of.

“So, what’s crack-a-lackin’, boys?” She asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Uh…” Sam tried to think of something to say when Cas stepped in.

“We’re here looking for Durand Ianson’s index.” He supplied, which caused Sam to give him an exasperated look. Cas didn’t seem to notice this response.

“O… ‘kay?” She narrowed her eyes in confusion, “You wanna tell me _why_ you need my great uncle’s index?”

“Your great uncle?” Sam frowned, “Wait, are you Cathleen’s—”

“—Sister, yeah.” She nodded slowly, “What’s it to you? What do you want the book for? Also, _who_ are you?”

“Listen, we can explain—” Sam began when she interrupted.

“—Gimme a name, giant.” She said gruffly, jerking the gun slightly towards him.

“Sam. Sam Winchester.” He replied. He was about to continue when she cocked her head, frowning slightly.

“Sam Winchester.” She glanced from him to Cas. “And so is this your brother, Dean?”

“No—” Sam blinked, “—wait, you know who we are?”

“Yeah, of course.” She replied, “ _If_ that is who you are—” 

She stopped, as though she was distracted by a thought in her mind. After a moment’s pause, she sighed and lowered her gun. Cas and Sam shared a mutually confused look as she tucked it into the umbrella rack beside the front door.

“You know, Cath’s not gonna like it very much when she comes home and finds you two here.” She said, crossing her arms. “Gimme one good reason why I shouldn’t kick you out before she comes back and does worse.”

“Because we need help.” Sam replied quickly.

“What kind of help?” She asked, leaning on the doorway.

“It’s uh…” He swallowed, sharing a tense glance with Cas, “…it’s a long story.”

“Well,” She leaned around the doorway to look at the clock then relaxed again, “You’ve got about six hours before Cath comes back.”

Sam was now seriously confused. He shifted his weight, frowning at her. “I’m—I’m sorry, I don’t understand why you’re just… all of the sudden… willing to listen.”

She shrugged, “I’m bored.”

“You’re _bored?_ ” Cas cocked his head.

“Yes, usually.” She nodded to him before turning back to Sam, “And from what I know of the _Winchesters_ , they’re usually tryin’ to be on the right side of things, so I’m more inclined to listen first, shoot later.”

Sam nodded as if to say “oh, well, yeah ‘try’ is the right word for it”, then took a breath and launched into the story.

“So, uh, basically, I was possessed by an angel, and while, um, he was, uh, using my body,” Sam faltered a bit, glancing away, “he killed a friend of ours.”

Cas watched her expression soften slightly, her eyes trained solely on Sam.

“The angel is gone now, but we’d like to find him. And—and there’s this, uh, archive we’ve been using, that was from the, uh, _organization_ that your great uncle used to work for, but there’s, uh, some stuff missing from it, including the spell and instrument we would need to track the angel.” Sam finished, sighing dejectedly at the memory of Kevin’s loss. “We were hoping his index could… shed some light on it.”

“Huh.” She said, “An angelic tracking spell?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded.

Her eyes flickered from him to Cas. With a jerk of her chin, she addressed him. “What’s your name, trench coat?”

“Uh, well, it’s an overcoat…” Cas drifted off and then shook his head, “Never mind. My name is Castiel.”

Her brows rose. “Like an angel?”

“Yes.” Cas nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Sam interjected, recalling her attention, “how do you _know_ so much about us and the supernatural?”

She made a face that suggested the answer was obvious.

“Are you a hunter?” Cas asked.

“ _Pfft!_ ” She scoffed, “Yeah, no, Cath isn’t big on us _leaving_ this place, much less letting me go off hunting.”

Sam’s brow furrowed a bit further. _Let her_ go somewhere? Was she not an adult? She looked like she was in her mid-twenties.

With that, she stepped forwards, holding out a hand. “Sadie. Sadie Eldredge.”

“Uh,” Sam quickly took it, and nodded, “uh, nice to meet you.”

She smirked at the hint of uncertainty in his voice, then shook Cas’s hand too. When that was done, she walked between them into the library.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had hunters come to use the library.” She said, grabbing a ladder from the side of the room and walking directly to a bookcase near the window. As she climbed, she continued, “Don’t get much of anybody visiting ‘round here anymore, but that’s by design, I suppose.”

“What does that mean?” Sam frowned, asking before he could stop himself but not expecting a real answer.

“Uh, ‘cause our parents were the ones who used to let hunters come use this library, and then when they died Cath wasn’t _keen_ on keeping up the tradition.” Sadie leaned away from the ladder, grabbing a book without hesitation as if she knew exactly where everything was. “I’ll have to see what instrument you’re talking about—do you have any reference?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam fumbled to get his phone out and pull up the picture as she came back down, holding a thick, red book. He held out the phone so she could see. 

“Oh!” She nodded, “Okay, I gotcha, yeah, we’ve got that somewhere, it might take me a bit to find it, though.”

“I’m—” Sam paused, trying to think of the best way to say this, “—Could we, uh, borrow the Index to re-organize our archive?”

Sadie narrowed her eyes slightly. “You don’t know how your own archive is organized?”

“No, it’s in disarray.” Cas supplied, “We would bring the book back if you wanted it returned.”

Sadie’s narrowed eyes flickered back and forth between them. “Who’d you say you worked for, again?”

Sam and Cas shared a nervous glance, then both looked back at her.

“We, uh, live in the old Men of Letters bunker, where your great uncle used to work?” Sam wondered if that would mean anything to her, which it appeared to.

“You… you don’t _work_ for them, do you?” She asked, holding the book a bit closer to her and seeming very concerned about this possibility.

“No, uh,” Sam shifted, “we’re legacies—me and my brother, Cas is our, uh, friend. We just live there. We use the stuff in it to help us hunt and we also just… live there.”

She was quiet for a long moment, frowning at him suspiciously. He was afraid again that she would not believe him, but then she relaxed.

“Alright.” She nodded, “Well, the Index is buried in the back yard, under the mulch beside the little magnolia tree.”

“It’s _buried?_ ” Sam frowned incredulously.

“Yep.” She replied, moving forwards to set the book down on the coffee table. “Shovels are leaning against the garage.”

She settled in, opening the red book to begin flipping through. Above her, Sam and Cas turned to look at each other.

“I’ll, um, go… dig it up.” Cas said slowly. He hesitated a moment, then walked off.

There was a moment of silence, where the ticking clock became audible once more. Slowly, Sam turned back to Sadie, where she was hunched over the book, flipping furiously through.

“Where… wait.” Sam frowned, and she looked up from her work. “Did your uncle _steal_ all of this from the Men of Letters?”

“Yeah.” She smirked, “My dad always said it was because uncle D didn’t trust them.”

“Didn’t _trust_ them?”

Sadie shrugged, “Uncle D was a weird guy, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“So… that was his _only_ reason?” To Sam, this sounded rather preposterous.

“Well, no.” She sighed, “The Men of Letters started doing some… _experiments_ that uncle D found to be… _unethical_.”

“What kinds of experiments?” Sam asked.

“Different stuff,” She shrugged a shoulder, “what really did it for him though was the experiments on possessed individuals.”

“Demons?”

“Mm.” She nodded, “And also, I mean, how do you think they came up with this theoretical spell you’re looking for?”

He opened his mouth to reply then closed it. This was a whole new side of the organization that he was just starting to understand. He hadn’t even considered how they would’ve come up with this spell.

“Once they started doing the experiments on demons and exorcisms, they started to wonder what the other side was workin’ with.” She stood, walking over to the opposite bookcase from where she’d retrieved the last book. Her fingers ran down the spines of binders, looking for something. “Ah.” 

She pulled a thin, grey binder out and walked over to Sam. She held it out to him, and he carefully took it, waiting for more explanation before opening it. On the cover and spine, scrawled in black sharpie was:

He frowned, “What’s the X for?”

“Oh, it’s a rating on how upsetting the file is.” She replied matter-of-factly. “This one’s a ten.”

“What’s the highest?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Twelve.”

“Have you… ever… _found_ a twelve?” He asked slowly.

“Yeah.” She nodded, growing a bit somber, “It… _sucked_ to look at. I started organizing all of this when I was like nineteen, and I was definitely scarred by the file that was a twelve.”

“Oh.” He said, unsure of what else there was to say.

“My rating system is called ‘The Comprehensive Scale of Shitiness’.” She added, “Cause they’re always tryin’ to be _comprehensive_.”

He let out a nervous, but partially amused snort of laughter, then she returned to the subject at hand.

“Well, anyways,” She returned to her conversational tone, “Uncle D was filing some new stuff for the Men of Letters when he came across these.”

Sam moved to open the binder when her hand appeared, keeping the cover down. With a frown, he looked up at her.

“I didn’t give it a ten for nothing. It’s pretty gruesome.” She warned.

With a deep sigh Sam nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure it is.”

She retracted her hand and moved back to the couch. Inside the binder was a file titled: _Findings from the Dissection and Examination of Angelic Vessels_.

“ _Fucking hell…_ ” He muttered under his breath, flipping to the next page.

Sadie sat on the couch, one arm slung across the back, with her head tilted and her eyes trained on him. Her gaze flickered down, taking in all of him with a keen eye. Although she’d heard of the Winchesters, she was fudging it a bit on the details—she didn’t really know much about them at all. She did know he was telling the truth, however—let’s just say she had a reliable source.

 _Sadie, are you sure you should be letting them_ ** _borrow_** _the index?_ A voice asked in her head.

 _I’m gonna get collateral, don’t worry._ She replied silently, _Besides, it’s not like Cath goes out and_ ** _uses_** _the damn thing—she’ll never notice it’s gone._

_Seems like a big risk, man._

Above them, there was a loud creak of wood. Sam’s head shot up and he glanced around with a frown, eyes falling back on Sadie.

“Is there… is there someone upstairs?” He asked.

“It’s an old house, Sam.” She replied easily, a gentle smile on her face. “You think that’s bad, you should try _sleeping_ up there when it’s windy.”

He was unsure of how honest she was being with him, but he asked no further questions. Inside the binder was paperwork for at least five different subjects that were studied by the Men of Letters in the fifties. Four of them were former vessels, while the fifth was a currently-occupied human that they managed to capture. It was a very low-level angel, sent to Earth to observe, and the name it gave was Jacquelin. Accompanying the troublingly-detailed charts of findings from both live and dead dissections were photos. Although they were grainy and colorless, they made Sam feel just as uneasy as seeing them in person would have.

“This is…” Sam shook his head slowly, lost for words.

“Barbaric?” Sadie suggested, “Inhumane?”

“Yeah, those are _some_ words for it.” Sam swallowed, shutting the folder.

“Yeah, uncle D thought so too.” She sighed, “Though, all signs do point to him being a bit on the _paranoid_ side, too, so it could be a combination of the two—the institution’s absolutely abhorrent behavior and a skittish librarian with paranoia.”

“I don’t know.” Sam set the folder down and took a seat in an armchair. “I think I’d be pretty paranoid, too, if I stole a bunch of stuff from a group that did _that_ to people.”

She smiled at him, “Fair point.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Sam, donning a frown, spoke.

“Sadie?”

“Hm?” She looked up from where she’d been examining her nails.

“Why…” He narrowed his eyes slightly, “…why are you being so helpful?”

“What, you sayin’ you’re not trustworthy?” She smirked, making him sigh and smile despite himself.

“No, I just mean,” He took a breath, leaning his forearms onto his knees, “I just don’t… I don’t understand what you get out of this.”

For a long couple seconds, she just stared at him, clearly trying to decide if she ought to be honest or not.

“Well, if you _must_ know,” Sadie straightened, “I know you’re here with good intentions.”

Sam frowned. “How?”

“I have my ways.” She replied, and when he frowned, she added, “I mean, I believe you. Is there something you need to tell me?”

He let out another one of those amused snorts. “No, it’s not that.”

“No, I know.” She nodded, “But I do believe you. And besides, we haven’t had visitors in a _long_ time.”

“How long?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Must be about… _eight_ years now?” She said that like it was no big deal.

“ _Eight years?_ ” He was aghast.

She smirked, “Don’t worry, I get out of the house. I just meant we don’t have people over. It’s been like _nine_ years since a hunter stopped by here to use the library. I always feel like she’s being neglected.”

A small smile broke on his face. “‘She’?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, blushing a little, “Not that anything needs to be assigned a gender, but yeah, she.”

For a second, they stared at each other. 

“You know where everything is in here, don’t you?”

She smiled, “Well, who d’you think organized it all?”

Sam let out a soft chuckle, nodding. “Man, I wish we had someone to do that with ours.”

“Well, I won’t pretend like it didn’t take me about two years to get it all done.” She replied, glancing around the room, “I’m goin’ through now and scanning them all, but it takes _forever_.”

“ _Psh!_ Yeah, I’ll bet.” He nodded, glancing up at the bookcases. A thought occurred to him then. “Sadie, how did your great uncle _move_ all of this stuff?”

“Uh, well, he had some help, I think.” She frowned, trying to remember, “I think maybe my grandad helped him with a car, but as the story goes, there was a day when all the Men of Letters were out, and uncle D was supposed to be on vacation, so he went then, and just grabbed as much as he could.”

Sam frowned, “But… why? I mean I understand disagreeing with their practices, but what’s the point of stealing all of this?”

“Well, to them, knowledge was power.” She said, “He wanted to set them back in their research, but he also wanted to kind of, uh… spit in their face, if you know what I mean?”

Sam let out another soft chuckle. “Yeah, I get you.” He thought for another moment, “But… why settle so close? I mean, the Bunker is only a couple hours from here.”

“Mm, well,” She sat up, “apparently he was just staying here temporarily—this is where he and my grandad grew up. And then…” She gave a shrug, “No one came looking.”

“Makes sense.” Sam snorted, then caught sight of her confused expression. “Oh, uh, they all got killed.”

“Oh.” Her brows rose.

“Yeah.” He nodded, “A demon.”

“ _One_ demon wiped them _all_ out?” She quirked a brow.

“Yeah, it was a, uh, _Knight of Hell_.” Sam supplied, to which she gave a surprised frown.

“Wow, okay.” She let out a little chuckle, “Makes sense why they weren’t worried about some missing books, then.”

There was another pause, then he nodded towards the red book. “What’s that?”

“Oh! Right.” She scooted forwards in her seat, turning the book to him. Inside, there was a handwritten entry with the heading: 

“Did you write this?” He glanced up from the book to her.

“Yeah, sorry if it’s hard to read.” She winced a bit, “They were, uh, using some kind of paper that was easily damaged, so I put any loose spells I found into that book.”

“May I?” He held up his phone.

“Yeah, go for it.” She nodded, and he leaned forwards to take a photo.

When he was done, he sat back, frowning. “So, why did your parents open the library up to hunters?”

“They were socialists.” She replied with that same blunt, matter-of-fact tone that was inexplicably funny—and this was by design. When she’d gotten a soft chuckle out of him, she continued, “But, really, when uncle D died, he left everything to my dad, and my dad thought the knowledge ought to be made available for those _actually_ doing the fighting. He never really _looked_ through everything, he just kind of had a shelf where all the most important or most used stuff was, and the rest he’d fumble his way around ‘till he found.”

“Sounds like an organized guy.” Sam teased, making her smile.

“Yeah, dad was…” She paused in an unusual moment of genuine emotion, “…he was always bouncin’ around from task-to-task. He was always trying to do a million things at once, and it was always _him_ who had to do it. My mom used to tease him about it _incessantly_.”

This made Sam smile a bit. At the back of the house, there was the sound of a door slamming, and moderately heavy footfalls before Cas appeared in the doorway. With a tired look, he shuffled to a halt and held up a dirty, airtight Tupperware with a black journal inside.

“This is it, right?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She nodded, standing as Sam did the same. “Did you uh, fill the hole back in?”

“Yes.” Cas nodded, “It looks just like it did when I started digging.”

“Good.” She replied, turning from him to Sam. “Now, you’re gonna bring that back, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“I’m gonna need some collateral.” She cocked her head, “Something you’ll come back for.”

He frowned for a moment, trying to think of what he had that he could part with. After tucking his phone into his coat pocket, he reached around to the back of his jeans, pulling out his handgun. Slowly, he turned it over in his hand, then released the magazine. He held out to her the rest of the weapon, but for a moment, she didn’t take it.

“It’s, uh,” He cleared his throat, “it was a gift from my brother. I’ll be back for it.”

Behind her, Cas’ brow furrowed with concern. This was a bad sign—the longer he spent apart from Dean, the more angry and reckless Sam seemed to become.

Sadie, however, was pleased with this offer and took the gun gently away from him. “I’ll keep it somewhere safe.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, tucking the magazine into his pocket.

“Mhm.” She set the weapon down on the table, grabbed the binder he’d left there, and walked back over to the bookcase. 

Her careful hand slid the binder back into its place, then she squatted down to the cabinets beneath those shelves. Sam blinked in surprise—he hadn’t really noticed them. He wondered if he was slipping, just plain tired, or if it was because he’d been distracted.

After a moment of rummaging around, she pulled out a beat-up tin box and stood, kicking the cabinet gently closed behind her. With a smile, she walked over to hand it to him. After a moment of hesitation, he took it, opening the box to find the syringe they’d been looking for. He smiled, shutting it and meeting her gaze again.

“Thank you, Sadie.” He tapped the box gently, “I’ll, uh, bring this back too.”

She shook her head and waved him off. “No need. I just need the Index back. That thing creeps me out.”

“Alright.” He nodded with a small smile, then she walked them to the front door.

On the porch, he paused turning back to look at where she was leaning between the door and the doorway. That easy smile on her face made him feel a bit warm, like she could convince him to cheer up with a look alone.

“I’ll, uh, see you later, then.” Sam nodded, a bit stiff.

She nodded too, slower and much more relaxed than him. “I’ll be here.”

Cas and Sam gave her another nod, then went down the steps. As they reached the bottom and began walking on the front path, she called out after them.

“Hey!”

They both turned to look at her, but she was smiling at Sam.

“ _Good luck!_ ” She smiled one last time before closing the door.

Cas’ eyes flickered from the now-closed front door to Sam. The man was smiling a bit to himself like he was cautiously pleased. Without another word, they started walking again, getting into their car and driving off.

For a long while, the street outside was quiet. Darkness hugged the buildings and it was all still. A beat-up red Subaru pulled to a halt in front of the house, and Cath stepped out. With a heavy sigh, she locked the car behind her and trudged up to the front door, two grocery bags in one hand.

“ _I’m back!_ ” She called from the front hall, yanking her keys out of the lock. Now that she was home again, she locked all three of the locks on the door and slid the chain into place.

When that was settled, she walked over to look into the living room. Sadie glanced up from where she was sitting on the couch, reading.

“How was work?” Sadie asked.

“Shitty.” Cath replied flatly. She raised the bags, “I got food.”

“Cool.” Sadie stood, closing her book and taking the bags.

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” Cath asked, following her into the kitchen and sitting down as Sadie started unpacking the bags.

“Nah.” She replied.

Outside, a streetlamp flickered. From between the shadows of the two houses across the street, a woman in a dark coat slinked into view. She paused on the sidewalk, slowly tucking her hands into her pants pockets, cocking her head at the Ianson house. The streetlight flickered again, and she looked up with a scowl, her eyes black as the night surrounding her.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been three days since Sam and Cas had failed to complete the tracking spell. Cas had left afterwards, going off to find Bartholomew on his own. Dean was still off on his crusade. Sam had not tried to call him, but every once and a while, Dean would text to let him know he was still alive.

Silence in the Bunker was inescapable. No natural light came in, meaning the days slipped into nights and then back into days without his noticing. And the way he was keeping himself occupied was by reading through the Ianson Index, as it was called. He wondered idly why Cath and Sadie’s last name was Eldredge.

After a couple pages, little notes started to appear in the margins. Small comments, like if the Ianson library only had part of an item listed, all written in a familiar hand. Twenty pages in, the notes got longer.

He smiled at it, wondering who the notes were for other than her. It was almost like a journal, chronicling tiny moments in her life over a couple years—he assumed the notes were from the two she said she spent organizing the Ianson library. Another entry, a couple pages later read: 

He continued through the book, now just looking for her entries, and giving up completely on the searching for unhighlighted items, which were the ones still in the Bunker. He reassured himself that he would come back to the other work later. 

The next one came a couple pages later, right beside an item in the index called “The Psychic Ability”.

The following entry was right below that one, beside an item Durand had labeled “Comprehensive Digest of the Psychic Abilities”.

He frowned at this. There were a lot more sections of the Index that were filled with repetitive-sounding names—it was strange she was just complaining about the prevalence of files on psychics. The item after that file was crossed out, but underneath the line was written: “Psychic Studies - Comprehensive Digest of Beings Imbued With Psychic Power”. 

Sam’s brows furrowed further at this. He remembered her saying she’d been organizing some of this stuff when she was nineteen. She had been pretty angry—a lot more so than when he’d met her. The next one was not crossed out, and it was titled: “Known Psychics and Psychic Bloodlines (5 vol.)”—and a messy arrow led his eye down the page to the corner, where she’dscrawled:

This gave Sam pause. If it wasn’t in the Ianson library, then that must mean… it was in the Bunker. He moved back to the label Durand had written.

Down in 7B, Sam rummaged through boxes, the Index laying open on a shelf near him. After a couple minutes, he found the filing box labeled _Files 16A-16E.23._ He frowned at those numbers, beginning to think she might’ve been onto something with the assertion that Durand organized like a freak.

As soon as he opened the box, his eyes fell upon a set of five files that were much more stuffed than the rest. He put his flashlight in his mouth and squinted at the labels. _16A.01 Known Psychics (A-I)_ , was first, followed by folders that were titled _16A.02 J-N_ , _16A.03 O-S_ , _16A.04 T-Z_. They were made a set, however, by the folder at the end, labeled _16A.05_ ★ _Known Psychic Bloodlines_.

Sam decided to take all five of the folders upstairs, now curious as to why Sadie was so fascinated by the psychic items in the archive. Before he’d reached the “P” section of the Index, her notes had appeared only every couple pages, and mostly they were clerical. The notes she left beside files about psychics were colorful, to say the least.

All of the heavy folders were laid out in front of him, in varying states of disarray. He had skimmed through the files with known psychics but found the fifth file to be much more interesting. Apparently, the Men of Letters had kept a record of any psychic families that they came across. They were in alphabetical order, with a table of contents listing every name contained in each section and the page where their information could be found. Out of curiosity, Sam flipped to the “I” section. When his finger ran down the “I” table of contents, he was a little disappointed to find that there was no entry for any Ianson family.

He sat back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head and a deep frown on his face. What was her fascination with psychics? Maybe she just got a bit sick of the organization the further she got when organizing the Ianson Library, but that seemed like too plain of an answer. Of course, he was also not the man he had been when he was nineteen, but these notes were so much angrier than the Sadie he’d met. She was calm, calculated, charming—this version of her was sarcastic, furious, and bitter. Maybe he just didn’t know her all-too-well, though.

Then, it occurred to him that she and Cath’s last name was Eldredge, not Ianson. His chair fell back down onto all four legs. His eager hands flipped through the file with a bit of an excited tremor in them. Finally, he got to the “E” section, and sure enough, there was a name listed on the table of contents.

12. _ELDREDGE_ ★ _\- pg. 144_

Sam frowned at the little star, which he had noticed on the top of this file too. He wondered if it meant something specific, or if it was just an annotation of importance. Either way, he flipped to page 144 with little hesitation.

Sam sat back in his chair, frowning. Kansas was pretty far from North Carolina, not just in distance but in sensibility. It seemed strange that they would be related to a family that has such deep roots in North Carolina when Sam was pretty sure the Ianson house was where Sadie and Cath had grown up.

He scanned all of the pages in the Index, which took up a day and a couple hours in the morning after. As he sat beside the scanner-printer he’d crammed into a corner of the first-floor storage room, he held his gun’s magazine between his two hands, studying it. Sam was not the kind of person who was tortured by not knowing things—he could accept that he didn’t understand stuff and move on. Something about this was egging at him. Maybe it was that he was bored, or he hated being alone in the Bunker, but either way, when he finished scanning the last page of the Index, he checked his watch. It wasn’t even 1pm yet—he had plenty of time to get over there.

The car slowed as he approached the house, looking to see if Cath’s car was outside. Sure enough, there was a red Subaru sitting in the drive. Sam sighed, pulling the car up to the curb and mentally preparing himself for the mildly unpleasant situation he was about to experience. When the engine was off and he moved to get out, however, he hesitated. 

The dynamic between Cath and Sadie was confusing to him, and he wondered if he would be breaking some kind of “natural order” by not only visiting once but twice. Then, he thought about the idea that Cath had to “let” Sadie go hunting. The level of control she exerted over her younger sister felt a little close to home—so much so that he began to be annoyed. It seemed silly for him to have to walk on eggshells for the benefit of this woman who was trying to control her adult sister. Without another moment to spare towards contemplation, he got out of the car.

When he reached the front door, he silently prayed that it would be Sadie who answered. He knocked firmly, then returned his hands to the Index he held in front of him. The door opened without warning, jerking to a halt when the chain came to the end of its length. His stomach sank when Cath’s narrowed hazel eyes peered up at him.

“ _You?_ ” She frowned.

“Uh, yeah.” He nodded, swallowing before continuing nervously, “Is, uh, Sadie home?”

The look on her face in response to that was a mix of incredulity and confusion. “Ex _cuse me?_ ”

He opened his mouth to reply when he heard someone thundering down the stairs. Cath turned to look over her shoulder, then shut the door on him. Sam heaved a long sigh, wondering how long he would have to wait out here. Just as he was about to start peeking through the windows, the door opened, all the way this time. He turned to find Sadie there, her hair down and a bit damp, like she’d taken a shower an hour or so ago—the dry ends of it were curling gently. The look on her face was a stark contrast to the expression Cath had worn, in that she looked visibly pleased to see him, if not a little surprised.

“Hi.” She smiled, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Hey.” He let out a little nervous chuckle, peering over Sadie’s head to see Cath standing there, arms crossed and looking on like a teacher at a middle school dance.

“Would you like to, uh, come in?” Sadie asked, recalling his focus to her.

“Sure.” He shot Cath a contemptuous look over Sadie’s head, which the younger Eldredge did not seem to notice.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Sadie asked, shutting the door behind him. “In the Bunker, I mean.”

He turned back to them from glancing around the front hall, and found Cath, leaning against the banister and looking unimpressed. With a small sigh, he tried to just focus on Sadie.

“I just scanned the pages, I hope that’s okay.” He held the tattered black book out to her, “I figured you wouldn’t want to be apart from this for as long as it’ll take me to organize that place.”

She beamed, accepting the book. “Thank you.”

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. She took a moment, smiling at the book, then lowered her hands, holding it near her waist.

“How about the spell?” She asked, her sister still watching from behind—she really felt like a chaperone.

“Oh, it, uh, didn’t work.” Sam nodded solemnly.

“Aw, man, I’m sorry to hear that.” Sadie frowned sympathetically, “Well, I was looking through some other files, though and I found some stuff about trapping sigils and stuff like that? Ones that would work on angels—I mean you probably already know it, but I thought I ought to mention it anyways.” She finished with a nervous chuckle, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“You mean…” He cocked his head, “… you mean other than a ring of holy fire?”

“Yeah.” She looked up, cautiously enthused, and then nodded, “Here—come ‘ere.”

She turned on her heel and marched past Cath, down the house’s main corridor. Sam swallowed, eyes flickering over to Cath as he moved to follow Sadie. Right when he thought he was going to make it without Cath saying anything, she spoke.

“I thought I told you there was nothin’ here for you.” Cath’s voice was dark and low. He shuffled to a halt, then glanced over his shoulder.

“Well, you were wrong.” Sam replied bitterly.

She straightened away from the staircase, uncrossing her arms, “ _You oughta_ —”

“— _Sam!_ ” An urgent and tense voice called both of their attentions down the hall. Sadie was peeking out of the office doorway. She looked a bit desperate to get him away from Cath.

Before he thought much about it, he gave Cath a little, smug smirk, then continued to Sadie. He gave her a small, genuine smile as he passed her and walked into the office. Behind him, Sadie leaned out of the room to shoot her sister a dirty look, then shut the door behind them.

The office was small—a little too small, honestly. He glanced around and realized that there were only about four feet of space between him and Sadie—the rest of the room was taken up by filing boxes and cabinets, as well as a bookcase (of course) and a desk.

“You wanna sit?” She offered him the desk chair.

“Oh, uh, sure.” He nodded, plopping down and wondering what they were doing in this tiny room. The chair was old, and a little broken, so it took him a second to get comfortable. Sadie, however, took no notice, and if she did, she didn’t let it on.

“Sorry,” Sadie stepped around him to stand beside the chair and facing the desk, “I would have invited you somewhere with a little more _space_ , but, uh, Cath can be a little _distracting_.”

Sam nodded slowly, spinning in the swivel chair so he could see what she was doing at the desk. Her hands flew around from place to place, trying to organize an _extremely_ messy pile of folders left open beside a laptop he assumed to be hers. She muttered some more nervous apologies as she worked, to which he reassured her of there being no rush. As she put some folders back into the filing box balanced precariously at the corner of the table, he peered up out of his periphery to watch her. She had a little crinkle in her brow, and she was mouthing things to herself.

“So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking,” Sam began slowly, “what’s uh, your sister’s, uh… _problem_ with me?”

“Aside from you breaking in?” Sadie smirked, shooting him a glance.

He couldn’t help the abashed smile that took over his face. “I thought she didn’t know.”

“Oh, she doesn’t.” Sadie continued smirking like the scoundrel she was—holding it over his head when she couldn’t care less about it.

“Well, anyways,” Sam bit down a smile in return, “I want to apologize for that.”

She paused, turning to look him in the eye with that sympathetic frown. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s really not—” He began gently when she interrupted him.

“—You lost someone.” Her eyes bore into his, solidly blue with what looked like a tiny fleck of orange in the right one. “You weren’t thinking straight, I understand.”

For a long moment, he just stared up at her, lips parted and brow furrowed. This woman made no goddamn sense—how was she so compassionate to a person she’d only just met?

“Well, uh,” He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat and tearing his eyes away, “I’m still sorry.”

“And I still forgive you.” She replied easily, turning back to her work. 

Again, he was surprised by her honesty and sympathy. It seemed strange to him—the way she just offered up answers to questions he asked. He’d come into contact with these kinds of people in college—there weren’t many of them hunting—and he’d always found them nerve-wracking. He never knew where the line was. The line that demarcated the point at which he was asking too much. For Sadie, he could tell that asking about her parents was a no-go, but beyond that, he really didn’t know what the hell was off-limits for discussion.

This led him back to the conundrum of her sister. If she didn’t know he’d broken in and she’d only seen him that one time, then what the hell could he have done to make her so angry? And why did Sadie put up with it? Why did she just stay here? She was a full adult, there was _no_ _reason_ to stay at home with a sister that grumpy. Speaking of sister, he remembered to ask about it again.

“So, really,” He began carefully, “what is it that makes Cath hate me so much?”

“Oh, well, no one _makes_ Cath feel anything.” Sadie sighed, expression resigned but voice light and friendly, “You had no chance the second you came to the door—you’re kind of everything she despises all the way down, you know? Doesn’t mean she’s _right_ , but since when did that matter.”

He let out a bemused snort, “All the way down?”

“Yeah, starting with the fact that you’re a man.” Sadie smirked, then turned to put the box on a nearby filing cabinet, her back to him. “Also, she just hates visitors.”

“Yeah, you said last time that I was the first in eight years, right?” Sam frowned thoughtfully as she turned back to him, almost done cleaning everything up.

“Mm.” She seemed pleased that he remembered, but he couldn’t be sure, “Yeah, Cath doesn’t do well with _change_.”

“ _Pft._ ” Sam let out an exhausted scoff, “Yeah, my brother is the same way.”

She smiled, leaning forwards onto the desk beside him, tugging the laptop over to her. “Is he older?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, then he frowned, “I thought you… I thought you knew about us?”

“Well, I’d _heard_ of you from a friend.” She replied evasively, typing on her computer. “So, is he a lot older?”

“Uh, no.” He realized that was all the explanation he was going to get for now. “Four years. How about you and Cath?”

“Seven. _Lords_ it over me every goddamn day.” Sadie sighed, “Anyways, here’s what I found that might be of use to you.”

She turned the computer to him, showing a scanned book spread. There were thick blocks of text surrounding what looked like hand-drawn illustrations. She watched his face cautiously as the expression melted away.

“Woah.” He breathed, leaning forwards to zoom in. Beside him, her mouth ticked up slightly. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen these before.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” She hesitated, then forged on, “I figured you could use anything you could get to, you know, avenge your friend.”

He paused, still looking at the screen. Part of him was conflicted at just the thought of Kevin alone, but something about what she’d just said made him a bit annoyed—why didn’t she think he could do it by himself?

“I’m—I’m sorry,” She fumbled, “I didn’t mean to assume—I just… I just wanted to help, I’m sorry.”

He glanced up at her finally and found her biting her lower lip nervously. “It’s…” He sighed, “…it’s alright. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, man, anything I can do.” She nodded eagerly. After a brief pause, she added, “I don’t get much occasion to share this stuff with people who actually _need_ it, you know? I feel kind of silly just _sitting_ on all this when there are people who could use it.”

He smiled despite himself, “Am I the first in eight years?”

She let out a soft chuckle at that, “No. I mean, you’re the first one to come _here_ and use the stuff but…”

There was a long pause, where he glanced around, trying to figure out what she was waiting for. A mischievous smirk crept up on her face.

“…I mean, Cath didn’t _say_ I couldn’t _take_ stuff _out_ and _bring_ it to people.”

This made him grin, leaning back in the desk chair and facing her more. “So, you’ve got a rebellious streak in you, after all.”

“Oh, you’ve seen nothin’ yet.” Sadie smirked, resting against the desk beside his knees, “Anyways, yeah, we have a, uh, family friend a couple hours from here who I go to visit sometimes with different stuff from the library, ‘cause she still hunts. She’s actually how I’ve heard about you.”

“Oh, really?” He began playing absently with a pen his hand found on the desk. “Who? I might know her.”

“Uh, Mo Latimer?” Sadie tried, to which he shook his head. “Yeah, makes sense. She’s not big on making new contacts anymore.”

“How come?” He asked.

“Uh… well she had a nasty encounter with a new hunter a while ago.” Sadie supplied, then moving on. “So, how about you? Where’s your brother?”

“Ah.” Sam made a face of resignation, “He’s, uh, off on his own. Trying to find the angel _by himself_.”

He didn’t even bother masking his younger-sibling exasperation at all, and frankly, she understood completely.

With a sigh and a slow nod, she replied, “Why do they always feel like it’s gotta be _them_ that has to deal with the big things and why do they always think they gotta do it _alone?_ ”

He let out a soft snort, smiling and nodding in agreement. “I have spent almost all of my adult life wondering that.”

“You and me both, Winchester.” She smirked.

There was a long moment of silence, where they both just kind of stared off into space. Suddenly, she spoke up again, voice gentle and vulnerable.

“Thank you.” She nodded once, looking away again, “For coming back.”

Sam frowned a bit internally at this but nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t want to go around breaking promises.”

She smiled at that, but it felt pained. “It’s, uh… I’ve missed… talking to people—casual acquaintances. Like, normal people.”

“You consider hunters normal?” Sam quirked a brow. At this she smiled too, shaking her head slowly and then continuing. 

“I mean it though.” She met his gaze again, “This place… I’ve lived here my whole life, and it’s where I grew up but…”

Sam waited patiently for her to continue, already prepared with what he was going to say in response.

“…In my head I call it ‘The Rock’.” She nodded gently, “‘Cause it feels like that’s what I’m living under.”

For some reason, this simple admission made him miserable for her. “Well, then why don’t you leave?”

To this, she let out a soft snort, as though the idea were preposterous. Sam was prepared for this response.

“I mean it, Sadie.” He leaned forwards in his seat, “You’re an adult you could go… anywhere.”

“It’s not that simple.” She sighed.

“Why not?”

She shrugged a shoulder, “It’s just… it’s more complicated. I can’t leave.”

A moment passed in silence—there was something she wasn’t telling him, he could tell. He watched her profile while she stared at her unmoving feet.

“That’s the other reason why Cath doesn’t like you.” She said finally, a sad sort of humor to her voice. “She doesn’t like anyone threatening her _order_ and giving any sisters any kinds of _ideas_.”

His brow furrowed sympathetically, and she quickly felt the need to back-pedal, more for his benefit than hers.

“I mean, it’s not all bad.” Sadie glanced away, nodding and only half-convincing.

“Sadie, it’s not—”

Suddenly her whole body went stiff. He paused, taken aback by the sudden change. Her eyes were wide, and without another word, she walked past him and opened the door. A muffled shout escaped her when she came face-to-face with an unfamiliar woman holding a gun.

“Hey, sweetie.” The woman glanced around Sadie at Sam. “Well, isn’t this just _too good_ to be true.”

Sam swallowed thickly, whole body tense. The woman blinked, revealing her black eyes.

“So,” She smiled smugly, “you two wanna come have some _fun?_ ”


	3. Chapter 3

“What did you do with my sister.” Sadie demanded immediately, “You hurt her—what did you do to her?”

Sam blinked, surprised by this. The woman only gave her a mocking pout and aggressively cocked the hunting rifle—it was the one Sadie had pulled on him when they first met.

“You’re much cuter when you _shut up_ , sweetheart.”

Sam’s eyes fell to Sadie’s hand at her side as it balled into a fist—it was clenched so hard that she was shaking slightly. **_There’s_** _the anger._

The woman stepped aside, blocking their path to the back door. She indicated with the gun that she wanted Sadie to come out and go towards the front of the house. The demon smirked at Sam and jerked the gun again.

“You too, pretty boy.”

With a great sigh and an intense eye roll, he stood, trudging after Sadie. When they reached the living room, Sadie was squatting down beside Cath, who was tied up and bleeding from the nose. As soon as Sam appeared, her expression hardened even further. The demon shoved him in between the shoulders, making him stumble a bit and roll his eyes again. Sadie shot up straight as soon as the demon could see her, pale and stock-still beside her sister. Reluctantly, Sam walked over to stand on Cath’s other side. For a long moment, the demon just looked at them, uninhibited glee in the sneer of a smile she wore.

“You know, I wasn’t _all too_ _sure_ that you’d come _back_ here, but,” She shrugged in a performative manner, “guess you just couldn’t stay away!”

Sam swallowed, already feeling immensely guilty. Also, though, angry. He wished then that he had the demon knife, but, of course, Dean had taken that with him when he went off on his little crusade.

The demon opened her mouth to speak again, stepping forwards into the living room doorway. Suddenly, there was a loud _thump_ , making them all jump. The demon collapsed, followed by an even louder _clunk_ as a heavy-looking brass bookend fell to the floor near her. Sam frowned in confusion, then he heard someone coming down the stairs, their pace unhurried.

Sam’s whole body tensed in apprehension, then a sock-covered foot appeared, followed by the young boy it was attached to. He stared equivocally down at the demon, cocking his head a bit, the baggy clothes he wore making him look thinner than a blade of grass. There were earbuds hanging out of his ears, and a nonchalant expression on his face—he couldn’t have been more than fourteen.

The boy looked up, noticing Sam and giving him a jerk of the chin in greeting. “’ Sup.”

“ ** _I_** _an_ —” Cath began in an aggravated voice, when he interrupted, speaking as he moved to pick up the bookend and set it down on the side-table.

“—Yeah, yeah, I know, Cath.” He sighed, walking over and pulling a pair of scissors out of his pocket to cut her loose.

“Well if you _know_ then why don’t you _listen?_ ” Cath’s exasperation was palpable, as he cut the rope holding down one of her arms. She then snatched the scissors from him to free the rest of her.

“I _saw_ it coming, and took an opportunity that _presented_ itself.” Ian stepped back to flop down in the armchair, turning his focus from Cath to Sam. “Nice to meet you, Sam Winchester.”

Sam blinked, a bit surprised at the switch from a family-only conversation to welcoming the guest in two seconds flat. Quickly, he recovered and nodded a bit awkwardly in response.

“Uh… hi.”

Ian Eldredge was not as big as Sadie, but he was clearly going to be someday. Despite the strange way in which Sadie and Cath didn’t look alike but still were recognizable as siblings, Ian looked _a lot_ like both of his sisters—he seemed to be the missing piece that made them an obvious set. He had similar, light brown hair and the same unimpressed resting-face as Cath, but blue eyes and long legs like Sadie. The music from his headphones was just barely audible from this far away, and it sounded like Jazz. Sam recognized the song, much to his surprise, and wondered if it was John Coltrane, or if he was just hallucinating.

“No, it is.” Ian said, seemingly apropos nothing.

“What?” Sam frowned.

“It’s ‘Blue Train’ by John Coltrane.” Ian replied equivocally, “You like Mr. Coltrane, Sam?”

“I—” Sam blinked, seriously confused.

“— _Ian!_ ” Cath interjected, now free and taking a firm tone of warning.

“ _Show off_.” Sadie muttered with a smirk, just loud enough for Sam to hear before she stepped towards the demon. “You wanna help me with this, Winchester?”

“I—” Sam blinked, frozen for a moment, then he jumped out of his daze to help her.

“Ian, _what_ did I _tell_ you?!” Cath hissed through her teeth.

Ian rolled his eyes dramatically and stood. “I’m gettin’ some cider, either of you want any?”

“You know we don’t.” Sadie smirked as she and Sam began moving the demon towards the chair it had tied Cath to.

“Well, yeah, but it’s still polite to _ask_ , right?” Ian smirked back, then walked off, a fuming Cath on his heels.

Sam tied the demon to the chair while Sadie moved the rug and began drawing a devil’s trap with some chalk he hadn’t seen her get. When she was done, they shuffled the chair over to the center of the pentagram. She then stooped down to outline parts of the sigil again, just in case.

“So…” He narrowed his eyes, “You _are_ related to the Eldredges from North Carolina, aren’t you?”

She smirked, laying her hands on her thighs as she squatted near the pentagram. “Been doin’ some research, have we?”

He let out a small chuckle, one hand going to scratch the back of his neck. “I was, uh,”

She straightened, and he realized how close he’d gotten to her. She seemed completely unaffected, though they barely knew each other. He tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to put up a nonchalant front.

“I was reading your notes in the Index.” He smirked, “You uh, got pretty _passionate_ about a couple volumes in the psychic section.”

“Oh, fuck.” Sadie blinked, “Man, I forgot about those.” She laughed, “Well, I guess y’ know, cat’s outta the bag, now anyways, right?”

He shrugged, and she turned to walk over to the window, setting the nub of chalk down on the sill. She hovered there, looking out into the side-yard for a moment when he spoke.

“You know,” He paused, “the Men of Letters seemed to think that the Eldredges were an eight out of ten on some kind of psychic-power-scale.”

“Did they now.” Sadie replied with contempt—not for him, but for the organization. “I’m sure they were _all kinds_ of excited to get their hands on some Eldredges.”

He swallowed, “That, uh, file. The one you burned?”

He didn’t need to continue, she already knew what he was asking. With a sigh, she turned to face him again, “Yeah, that was the twelve.”

He nodded in resignation, then moved on. “They seemed particularly interested in finding a psychic that rated a ten on that scale. They thought yours might be the family that would produce one.”

Sadie smirked, “Mm… well _if only_ they’d been smart enough not to get themselves all _killed_ ,” She leaned back against the windowsill, “they would’ve been able to see _two_.”

His brows rose. “You?”

“No.” Sadie shook her head, with a snort, like that was a funny thing for him to ask. 

She then turned to the mantle beside her, looking at some of the framed photos there. A woman with dark, curly hair and blue eyes grinned up from the photo, a strawberry blonde infant in her lap. 

Sadie pointed to that photo, “My mom.”

He walked over to look closer, noticing the picture beside that one, where a man with red hair and a big smile was sitting in a rocking chair, tickling a little girl who couldn’t have been more than five. Sam smiled.

“Is this your dad?” He pointed to it.

“Mhm.” Sadie beamed, “And _that_ ,” She pointed to the little girl, “is one _Cath Eldredge._ ”

Sam was unsure of how to respond to that.

“She was so cute.” Sadie smirked, “What happened, am I right?”

Sam let out a small snort of laughter, shaking his head slowly. Sadie watched him closely, a cautiously exhilarated smile on her face.

“So, was he a hunter?” Sam asked, going back to talking about her father.

“Oh, no.” Sadie shook her head, “He was a journalist.” For a moment she just stared at the photo with a smile. “Grandad never believed great uncle D, but my dad always did. He set out to prove that uncle D wasn’t crazy when he was about… _sixteen_ , I wanna say? And that’s when he met his first ghost.”

“By himself?” Sam asked, poised to be impressed.

“Oh yeah, he got his _ass_ kicked by an old lady ghost.” She nodded seriously. 

Sam let out another soft laugh at that—he liked her abruptness. Beside him, she smiled proudly, still looking at the photo.

“He said that when he went home, his dad was _pissed_ at uncle D. He thought that dad had just gotten hurt from falling down stairs in an unsafe abandoned house on a quest to find ‘uncle Durand’s ghosts’. Anyways, after grandad Magnus gave them both a _hefty_ piece of his mind, uncle D called my dad to ask him about it, then told him what he needed to do to get rid of the ghost. My dad had a broken arm, so he hired a couple friends to help him dig up the bones.”

“They just… _dug up_ a grave for their friend for money?” Sam smirked bemusedly. “No questions asked?”

She smiled, “Dad drove them to the house and waited in the car while they went to see the ghost. They believed him enough to take the, I dunno, fifteen bucks each he was giving them.”

“Cheap dates.” Sam commented wryly.

This made her beam. “Yeah, really.”

“So what happened next?” Sam crossed his arms, “He salted and burned the bones, and then what?”

“Well,” She sighed contentedly, “he was a teenage boy, so any kind of high-adrenaline, high-danger situations were extremely appealing. He wanted to find more ghosts, but again, grandad put the foot down.”

Sam shrugged a shoulder, “Probably for the best. I mean, this job is dangerous enough if you’re an adult.”

“Mm.” She nodded, “Anyways, then my dad went to school for journalism. He liked long-form stuff. When he was done with school, he took a year and went on a road trip around the US by himself. He was working on a couple different stories, but he was also collecting as much information about hunting as he could. He knew the symbols hunters put up in store windows from uncle D’s stuff, but he wanted to know anything else he could. So, he would stop at any place where there were hunter’s signs, and went in to talk to the owner.”

“They really just all started talking this… _stranger?_ ” Sam frowned.

“Not all of them, no.” Sadie smiled, “But my dad was a charismatic guy, and he made a good amount of friends on that road trip—networking and such turned out to be important for him later when he wanted to share this stuff with people.”

Sam nodded, impressed.

“The trip was cut short, however, when near the end of what he’d planned, he pulled into a little town in North Carolina, near the beach. There was a shop there that advertised palm and tarot readings and had some hunter signs up, so he went in. Behind the counter was my mom.”

Sam smiled at that.

Sadie glanced up at Sam with a wry expression. “He never _did_ finish the rest of that road trip.”

“He stayed?”

“Mhm.”

“How long?” Sam asked.

“Couple years.” Sadie nodded, “My mom was raised by her grandparents, and she wanted to stay nearby until they passed. So they got married in the town, then stuck around for a couple years. When my mom’s grandparents both passed, she and my dad decided they hated the ocean and moved to Kansas.”

Sam let out a snort, “Really?”

She shrugged, “Nah, that’s just what he would always say.” 

Sam let out another amused snort at that.

She smirked, “There was just nothin’ keeping them tied down there, and Uncle D had left my dad this perfectly good house, so it seemed like a perfect move.”

“And what about your mom?” Sam shifted, “What did she do?”

Sadie smiled, “Her name was Isadora, and she was a _very_ powerful psychic. Didn’t take much for her to see into your noggin, y’ just had to be in the same room. She said that when my dad walked in the door, the first thought he had when he saw her was: ‘Of _course_ I had to come in here on laundry day. _Of course!_ The most beautiful woman I’ve seen in my life and I’m here wearing a _salmon_ button-down when I’ve got red hair—I look like a _frat_ boy.’”

This was a confusing thing for Sam to find endearing, but it seemed like Sadie’s mom had been charmed.

“She was so surprised that she let out a laugh, and then you know, they got to talking, and she hinted that she heard what he’d thought and he just kinda… went with it.” Sadie shrugged, glancing up at Sam, “He was a weird guy, my dad.”

“Must run in the family.” Sam teased gently, suddenly unsure of whether or not that was an okay thing to say. She only smiled, letting out a soft snort of amusement.

They fell into silence again, but it was not an uncomfortable one. His eyes trailed across the framed photos that were beside those two. There was one of the three kids, all young, playing in a lake, and another of Tyler Ianson with a tiny Ian in a baby-backpack and with a young Sadie leaning up to talk to her brother. Beside those was one where Isadora was blowing bubbles in their backyard, a pair of loose over-alls on and a big, warm grin, her kids running around trying to pop the bubbles. It was all… so happy. It made Sam wonder again what had broken them all—why did Sadie stay when she felt tied down by this place?

“So, your brother, uh…” He began, eyeing her warily, “What is he?”

“Ian is a lot of things.” She smiled wryly, “But in this case,” Her eyes flickered up to his, “he’s the other _ten_ on that scale your _Men of Letters_ were so interested in.”

Sam blinked, “Really?”

“Mhm.”

He thought for a moment, “So, are you _all_ , um, psychic?”

“No.” Sadie shook her head, walking over to lean against the couch’s arm. “My mom always called Cath a ‘sensitive’, meaning she’s got some mojo, but it’s mostly tied to us.”

Sam nodded slowly, “So that’s how you knew she was hurt?”

Sadie smirked, “Yeah. Think of it like telepathic, sibling walkie-walkie. Though, with her I just…” Sadie’s eyes shifted away from him, and for the first time in a while, she looked evasive. “…I know when she’s in trouble.”

Sam decided that there was more he could learn, outside of following this road, which seemed to be a dead-end. “And… are you? …Like Ian?”

“Nah.” She smiled easily, “But, you wanted to know why I trusted your intentions so quickly?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. She waited a moment for him to catch up, and when realization dawned cautiously on his face, she continued.

“Ian usually has to be at least be in the same room as someone to hear them, but if me or Cath is in the room, sibling walkie-talkie—or something related to it—makes it so he can read people.” She explained. “Without us, it would still be possible, he’d just have to try harder. Depending on what kind of mood he and the people he’s around are in, he can hear thoughts through walls, but mostly if he’s alone in a room, he’s okay. We haven’t figured out how far apart we can be and still talk so we think about it like a short-wave radio. Since _I_ was in the room, I acted like an amplifier, making it so he could tell that you weren’t lying, and then he told me.”

“So he _told_ you, from upstairs that I was… telling the truth?”

“Mhm.” Sadie nodded, tapping her temple with one finger, “Walkie-talkie.”

“Huh.” Sam frowned to himself, parsing all this information for a moment. He then asked out of curiosity, “How old is he?”

“He’s twelve.” She replied.

“ _Really?_ ” Sam blinked in surprise, a genuinely deep look of confusion on his face. “Wow, he does _not_ look it.”

She smirked at that, “Yeah, don’t tell him that, he might get ideas. And Cath likes to run a tight ship around here.”

Sam let out a soft breath, “Yeah, I’ve noticed that.”

At that, Sadie smiled, though it was awfully sad. “Plus, it would be hard for Ian, out there.”

“You mean he just stays here all the time?” Sam’s brow furrowed with concern.

“Yeah, we all do, pretty much.”

“Cath doesn’t.”

“No, Cath has a job, but yeah, me and Ian stay here mostly. I work odd jobs too sometimes, just to get out, but yeah.” She sighed, “Took some classes for a while at a community college nearby. Finished the first two years—could’ve transferred to a better school but I… never figured got around to it.”

Sam blinked, taking a moment to try and gather his thoughts. “And you… don’t you want to go off and do your own thing?”

Sadie shrugged a shoulder, looking down at her hands as she spoke, “Being around lots of people, with their intrusive thoughts isn’t a fun time for Ian. Without us, there wouldn’t really be anyone he could talk to—no community for him. Cath and I are his only family left, so we’re gonna keep him safe, and help him until he’s ready to go off to school.”

For a long moment, Sam didn’t speak. He wondered if she really meant all of that, or if she was regurgitating someone else’s lines. 

She glanced up at him for a moment. “My family needs me. They come first.”

It occurred to Sam then, that he and Sadie had been led to the same fork in the road—deciding between family and college—and she was living down the path he hadn’t taken. She was stuck, under a rock, trapped in a house with her siblings and the specters of their dead parents. He didn’t want to, but he felt sorry for her. He knew that the other path had ended in misery for him, but somehow, it seemed better. He had at least gotten to _experience_ what it felt like to be on his own, and despite all the pain of being cut off from his family, it had been the goal he set his mind to, and he had followed through on, which was something he could still take pride in.

Sam was also continually amazed at how willingly she offered up information. He then realized that it probably didn’t seem unusual to her at all; being from a family of psychics meant that things would have to be out in the open all the time. He was not used to this kind of person—again, he was troubled by not knowing the point at which he would be asking too much, too soon. He decided to move forwards with caution.

The demon stirred beside them, and they both turned their focus to it. There was a creak of floorboards, and they looked up to see Ian, now holding a glass of apple cider, still with headphones in and that nonchalant look on his face. Cath appeared from behind him, yanking a knife out of a sheath and marching towards the demon.

“ _Wake up,_ ** _asshole_** _._ ” Cath menaced, pressing the blade to the demon’s neck.

The demon opened her eyes, and then made a face that indicated she was not intimidated. To that, Cath sliced open a small cut on her neck, making the demon groan in pain. Cath straightened, beginning to pace in front of the demon. Sam glanced around at the room. Ian was perched on the arm of the chair he’d been sitting on before, his sock-covered feet on the seat. Sadie was still beside Sam, and they were both just watching Cath like this was completely normal.

“Why are you here.” Cath asked questions like answers were not optional.

The demon rolled her eyes.

“She followed him.” Ian said, jerking his head towards Sam.

Sam cocked his head, incredulous at the sudden and seemingly unproven assertion.

“What the fuck?” The demon wrinkled her nose at Ian.

“ _You_ thought it. Not my fault.” He replied equivocally, giving a small shrug as he went to take another sip of cider.

 _Holy shit,_ Sam thought. This kid wasn’t a ten, he must be an _eleven_ on the Men of Letters scale.

“You little _shit_ -stain—”

The demon didn’t get to finish because Cath’s furious fist slammed her in the nose. 

“You watch your fucking _mouth_ in my house.” Cath snapped.

The demon’s head lolled back upright and she let out a little laugh as though Cath had given it a cute try.

“Her name’s Mavra.” Ian took another sip of his apple cider. Outside, the sun was beginning to set.

“Mavra?” Cath cocked her head, looking down at the demon, “Pretty.”

“What, you wanna make this fun for you, too?” Mavra replied snarkily. Cath’s hand snapped out again, this time using the knife to cut open a wound on Mavra’s cheek. The demon winced and made a noise of complaint.

“ _Why. Are. You._ ** _Here._** ” Cath leaned forwards, getting into Mavra’s face.

“They want Sam.” Ian answered for her. “She wants to impress someone called Abaddon. She and…”

Ian trailed off suddenly, face pale. Cath, whose back was still towards him, had the expression wiped off her face. Sam turned to look at Sadie and saw her looking similarly stricken. Cath’s head slowly rose from Mavra to look at Sadie, sharing an intense stare with her for a long moment.

Without another word spoken aloud, Sadie grabbed a little glass decoration off a side-table and slammed Mavra in the back of the head, knocking her out again.

“What the hell—?!” Sam balked.

“—You _shut it_ , boy.” Cath snapped, pointing at him.

“ ** _Ca_** _th!_ ” Sadie chastised, voice incredulous as she set the decoration back down onto the end table.

“ _What!_ ” Cath cried indignantly, pointing to Sam again, “ ** _He’s_** _the one who_ ** _brought_** _them here!_ ”

“There’s no fucking time for this, Cath!” Sadie yelled desperately, “We have to _go!_ ”

Cath took some deep breaths, then shook her head, turning away. “No. We’ll just barricade the house.”

“ _You_ ** _know_** _that won’t work!_ ” Sadie replied urgently, “ _We have to_ ** _go!_** ”

“ ** _NO!_** ” Cath marched away, grabbing the rifle off the floor, where it had been left earlier.

Sadie let out an aggravated sigh, then took a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. With her eyes still shut, she spoke, “Ian, go pack. Put your stuff in the Evo.”

Ian’s eyes flickered back and forth between his sisters, hesitating. Sam was completely still, wondering which sister he was going to follow. Finally, Ian stood to jog up the staircase, cider forgotten on the coffee table. Sadie turned to Sam.

“There’s a swarm of demons coming here.” She said, “Too many to fight off.”

“What can I do?” Sam asked immediately.

“ _You’ve done_ ** _enough!_** ” Cath snapped from the dining room, where she was laying out weapons.

“ _Shut_ ** _UP_** _, Cath!_ ” Sadie suddenly shouted, making her sister pause and raise her head, a reproachful look on her face. “ _Accept the facts and_ ** _adapt!_** ”

“ _You wanna_ —” Cath began to menace when Sadie interrupted her.

“—Mom and dad cared more about us being _alive_ than us being in this _house!_ ” Sadie cried, “You wanna watch Ian get torn apart by demons?! You _saw_ what he saw—there’s _too many!_ ”

Cath’s jaw clenched, nose twitching in annoyance. Without a spoken reply, she turned back to setting up her weapons. 

Sadie looked back to Sam. “Do you have room in your car?”

He nodded, “Yeah, anything you need.”

She pointed to a bunch of boxes stacked in the corner. “Just start grabbin’ books from the left-hand bookcase.”

Sam nodded again, rushing over to do as she asked. She turned and began collecting the framed photos off the mantle. Ian jogged down the stairs, carrying a duffle in each hand. He walked over and held one open for Sadie to set the photos in.

“Thanks.” She murmured to him, to which he only nodded. 

He didn’t need to ask where her keys were, just walked down the hall to the hooks near the kitchen. He grabbed the keys off the wall and sped outside. The garage door opened slowly, revealing a blue four-door that sported a thin layer of dust all over it. He popped the trunk and gently set his bag down.

Sam was literally doing exactly as she asked—just tossing as many books as he could into boxes. She rushed into his periphery, taking the binders out of the shelf and putting them in a box. Suddenly, he felt the need to do something.

“Sadie,” He put a hand on her arm, making her stop, “I’ve got this, you go pack your clothes and stuff.”

She seemed torn, but he gave her another nod and she relented. Five minutes later, he and Ian were in a rhythm—Sam finished boxes and then Ian took them out to the car. When he ran out of space in the Evo, they weren’t even half-way through the files and books in the left-hand shelving, let alone the entire library.

“ _Cath, give me your keys!_ ” Ian called, hovering by the front door with another box.

“ _No!_ ” Cath snapped, loading a gun.

Someone came thumping down the steps quickly, and Sadie appeared in the front hall, a duffle in each hand. She rolled her eyes at her sister and leaned into the living room.

“Sam?”

He nodded, already pulling out his keys and then tossing them to her. “Across the street.”

“Thank you.” She sighed, ushering Ian outside.

Sam slid another finished box to the front hall, then needed more places to put books. “Is there something else I can use to put stuff in?”

Cath froze, where she was carving a pentagram into a bullet, looking up at him contemptuously. “Do not. _Speak_ to me.”

Sam’s brows rose, and he opened his mouth to reply when Sadie came back. She was breathless, “In the office.”

He nodded and they both tore off to the small room. Sam grabbed a couple more empty boxes from the room when she stopped him.

“Only the bookcase you and I were pulling from.” She reiterated, panting slightly.

“I know.” He nodded, hurrying off to do as she asked.

Sadie grabbed the pen Sam had been playing with earlier, tucking it away into her pocket before grabbing her laptop and chord. She yanked a desk drawer open, revealing five external hard drives. With her arms full, she ran out to put them in the passenger seat of her car.

Sam was done with the third box, and only half of the bookcase was empty. Ian appeared to take the boxes out to Sam’s car, running back and forth quickly. The sun was still going down. Sam did not know what the timeline was exactly, but he sort of sensed that it was tied to the approaching night.

A soft cackling laugh distracted Sam momentarily. He turned to see Mavra awake again. She grinned, her teeth stained with blood.

“ _Run, run, run, little rats!_ ” She sneered, “ _Can’t escape your—!_ ”

She was cut off by a shot to the head, effectively shutting up the demon. Sam blinked, turning to see Cath, a stony expression on her face and the rifle in hand. She cocked it, and the shell made a soft _plink_ on the ground.

“Nice shot.” He breathed, genuinely surprised by her accuracy.

She tilted her head at him. “I _thought_ I told you not to _fucking_ ** _talk_** _to me_.”

Sam let out a short sigh, running his tongue across the inside of his lower lip as he tried to subdue himself. Sadie appeared again, sprinting up the stairs without a word spoken to either of them. Ian came hurrying in too, through the open front door, moving past Sam to start grabbing things willy-nilly off the shelves and just carry them in his arms. Sam decided that was the best idea.

As he returned from his second trip like that, the sun was out of sight, the last rays making the clouds pink and gold. He hurried up the front walk, hearing the end of another exchange between Sadie and Cath.

“… _You_ ** _know_** _what the hell we’re up against! You_ ** _know_** _this is a fight that we need to_ ** _run_** _from!_ ” Sadie insisted.

“ _His visions don’t always come true!_ ”

“ _Well, it wasn’t a_ ** _vision_** _, he got it from the source!_ ” Sadie cried, voice breaking, “ _Cath,_ ** _please!_** ”

“ _UGHAH!_ ” Cath shouted a wordless cry of frustration as Sam reached the front porch. 

Cath marched out of the dining room and into the hall, going into the closet and grabbing a big bag and a plastic case. She took them back to the dining room as Sam crossed the threshold. Sadie appeared in his periphery. He glanced down to see her holding out his gun.

A weak smile crossed his face, “Thanks, Sadie.”

He pulled the magazine out of his coat and slammed it in.

“We’re out of time.” Sadie explained, “They’ll be here any minute.”

“Okay.” He tucked the gun away, “Where do you want me to drive?”

She shook her head, “I don’t know—we don’t have anywhere else to go.”

His eyes darted around for a moment as he tried to come up with something, then he sighed. “You can come stay at the Bunker if you’d like.”

“ _Sam_ , I—” 

“—No, this is _my_ fault, I didn’t mean to get your family involved in my problems, I’m sorry.” Sam barely got that out when Ian was back. He tossed Sadie’s keys to her, which she caught easily.

“We gotta go.” Ian said, a bit breathless, “I’m starting to sense ‘em.”

“ _Fuck_ , okay, uh—” Sadie gripped her hair, then there was a thump from the dining room.

They all looked over to see Cath closing the grey case, the table now clean of weapons. Her gaze rose, and in it, Sam suddenly saw an extreme sadness. It existed only in her eyes, while the rest of her was as impenetrable as ever.

“Get in the car, Ian. Take the bag.” She nodded to the duffle on the table. He nodded, hurting over to get it while she fished her keys out of her pocket. Outside, the Subaru’s lights blinked on and then off again.

As he shuffled past, Cath turned to Sadie. “Did you—?”

“—Yes, I just grabbed the first things I saw.” Sadie replied, “Your bag’s in the Evo.”

“Thank you.” Cath nodded, lifting the heavy-looking case off the table and leaving it at the front door. 

Without a word, she turned and jogged down the hall, grabbing all the coats in her arms and bending down to pick up as many shoes as possible. Ian reappeared to grab the grey case, then rushed out again. Sam turned to Sadie, who was still standing there, pale and breathing heavily, one hand on her head.

“Sadie,” He touched her elbow, and she jumped, lowering her hand. Cath bustled past with the coats and shoes.

“Grab the rest, Sadie!” Cath ordered, and Sadie nodded, rushing off to do just that.

Sam, left in the front hall of this unfamiliar house, began wondering what he ought to do. Sadie stooped down at the end of the hall, grabbing the last of the shoes and dropping a few. The last light was almost gone from the sky—they needed to _run_. He rushed over and picked up the couple she couldn’t get in her hands, and the ones she dropped, telling her to lead the way.

She rushed them out into the garage, where he got his first look at her car. He paused for a moment, surprised by the sporty-looking four-door. He frowned but then remembered they were on a schedule. They shoved everything into the already stuffed backseat. When she closed the door, they turned to look at each other for a moment.

“We have to go.” She said breathlessly, face pale as a sheet and a bit of sweat dampening her hairline.

“Yeah, okay, just, uh, follow my car?” He replied, substantially less winded.

She nodded, “Thank you, Sam.”

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me, I got you into this.”

Her face fell like he was kind but incorrect. “No, Sam, _I_ did.”

Before he could reply, she turned and got into her car. He ran off and got into his own car as she pulled out of the drive. At first, Cath led the way, and for some reason, she took them further into town. She parked in the gravel lot beside a church and got out of the car without hesitation, Ian on her heels. Sam frowned but did so too, Sadie behind him.

Cath led them up a rickety spiral staircase and then a ladder, bringing them to the bell tower. She stopped, breathless and brows furrowed, looking out at the night for a long moment. When they were all up there, they stood in silence, all waiting for something.

A heavy boot stepped over the house’s threshold. The man attached to them took a brief moment to glance at where the front door lay, ripped from its hinges on the floor. Demons ravaged around the house, tearing up everything in search of the Eldredges. An empty glass rolled over the floor, a pool of cider trailing behind it. The man in the doorway cocked his head as though this were a mildly interesting sight. He glanced to his right, where the umbrella stand sat, and then he kicked it over. A blonde woman approached him.

“They’re gone.” She said, “What should we do now?”

The man heaved a long sigh, looking contently around at the house. “Burn this shit-hole to the ground.”

The blonde grinned, “Already on it.”

In the bell tower, they watched as a gigantic flame erupted in the distance. Sam’s breath caught in his throat. Beside him, Sadie put an arm around Ian’s shoulders, and he leaned into her side. Cath squatted down, one hand on the column beside her and the other covering her face. Sam’s eyes moved from that back to the fire and wondered if Ian had seen this coming too—if that was why Cath had finally been convinced to give it up. The flame then doubled in size, huge plumes of smoke billowing up into the night.

“ _Goodbye, Rock._ ” Ian said softly, staring on at the burning house with a melancholy look on his face.

Another moment passed, then Cath sniffed audibly and stood. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then nodded, forcing herself to be emotionless.

“Let’s go.” She said, “Can’t let them find us because we wanted to watch a damn bonfire. Go on.”

Ian went down first, followed by Sadie. When they were alone, Sam turned to Cath.

“Cath, I’m sorry—”

“— _Don’t._ ” Cath growled through her teeth, scowling up at him with a dark look in her eye. “You and I will _never_ be friends, so _don’t_ start trying now.”

He closed his open mouth, caught in the conflict between his anger and his guilt.

“We’ll stay _under your roof_ , but I will **_never_** forgive you for what you’ve done.” She breathed. “So _get_ _out_ of my way and stop trying to apologize. It won’t change a _damn_ thing.”

He swallowed and she pushed past, climbing down the ladder without another word. His gaze rose from the ground to look out at the fire, still clearly visible in the night. The lights from a firetruck flickered as they rushed towards the Ianson house. It was… it was his fault. And he felt like a complete idiot.


	4. Chapter 4

Of course, when they finally arrived at the Bunker, the Impala was parked in the garage. Sam let out a long sigh of exasperation, then got out. Sadie’s car was behind his, covered in dust save the windshield. She parked beside him, and Cath pulled into a spot on the other side of the room. Ian, who’d switched cars on the one break they’d taken, appeared on the other side of Sadie’s car, headphones in and a wary look about him.

“So, uh, we can move the other stuff later, but you guys can grab whatever you need for tonight and I’ll, uh, show you where you can sleep.” Sam felt a little bit like a camp counselor, but he powered through.

Cath, ever stiff and unyielding, waited with a scowl for him to lead the way. When they were all ready, they began making their way further into the Bunker. After a moment, Ian stepped up beside Sam.

“Your brother doesn’t know we’re coming.” He stated, “Are you worried he’ll be upset?”

For a moment, as they walked down the hall, Sam frowned. _Can he just hear whatever I’m thinking in the moment?_

“Yes.” Ian replied, “If I try harder I can see other stuff, but I’ve been told by my mom that doing so is in bad taste.”

“Really?” Sam smirked.

“Yeah.” Ian nodded, “First thing she told me when she realized I was like her was that people aren’t always in control of what they think. She said we ought to reserve judgement until we know their true intentions.”

“Huh.” Sam seemed impressed, “Sounds like a smart woman.”

Ian smiled fondly, eyes trained on the ground.

“Do you wear the headphones to block people out?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Ian nodded, “It used to work a lot better than it does now, but I’ve kinda gotten used to it so…” He shrugged.

Sam nodded idly, then showed them to bunks 18-20. Cath took 18, the one furthest from the rest of the rooms, Ian took 19 and Sadie took 20. Sam waited in the hall, if not mostly because he was putting off the inevitable meeting with his brother whom, he’d realized a few minutes ago, he did not want to see very much. Cath shut her door and didn’t look like she’d be coming out again, but her siblings both returned.

They were walking in calm silence, on the way to the kitchen when Ian spoke again. “Why are you so mad at your brother?”

“What?” Sam blinked, turning to look at him.

“ _Ian._ ” Sadie gently slapped his shoulder.

“ _So_ rry.” Ian mumbled, pouting a little.

“Uh, it’s—uh, fine. And, uh, it’s a long story.” Sam replied awkwardly, unsure of what else there was to say—there was no doubt in his mind that at this point Ian already knew the answer to his question.

It was pretty smart, honestly; even if one chose not to answer aloud, their mind always _thought_ the answer. Ian could literally ask anyone anything and he would be given the answer, whether they wanted him to know it or not. Of course, Sam was not new to this concept—he’d known about psychics practically his whole life—but this was the longest he’d been staying around one as powerful as Ian. It was going to take some getting used to.

As they came down the final stretch towards the kitchen, Dean appeared, a mug in one hand and his phone in the other. He glanced up at the sound of people and then frowned, looking quite apprehensive.

“Uh… _hey_ … Sam…” He said slowly, eyeing their guests.

“Dean, this is Sadie and Ian Eldredge.” Sam replied, “Sadie, Ian, this is my brother, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes flickered back to the Eldredges, still frowning a bit incredulously.

“Gross.” Ian suddenly spoke, giving Dean a weird look. He then blinked, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to be mentioning things he heard. “Uh, I mean…”

“What?” Dean cocked his head slightly.

“Um—” Sadie forced a nervous laugh, “—just, uh, ignore us.” She glanced up at Sam, “Kitchen’s over there?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam nodded, doing well to hide his smile at Ian, who he assumed heard Dean have an impure thought.

Sadie forced a tight smile at Dean as she herded her pouting brother past. Dean turned slowly, frowning at them until they disappeared into the kitchen. He then slowly returned his focus to Sam.

“So, you, uh, got somethin’ you wanna _tell_ me, Sammy?” He crossed the arm that wasn’t holding coffee.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, “We’re gonna have three guests living with us for a while.”

“How long’s ‘a while’?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Dean’s patience was clearly running thin, “Well, you said _three_ —where’s the third one?”

“Ah.” Sam heaved a sigh, “It’s their older sister and she’s, uh, in her room.”

“Not very sociable of her.” Dean commented.

“No, well, she’s a bit _grumpy_.” Sam tucked his hands into his coat pockets.

“About?”

“From what I can tell, everything.” Sam replied, “But, _on top_ of that, I got their house burned down, so she’s not the _biggest_ _fan_ of me.”

“You did _what?_ ” Dean’s brows rose.

Sam then proceeded to explain everything that had transpired, starting with the missing half of the archive. He skipped over the parts where he got further insight into the Men of Letters—that could be talked about later—and simply explained that some of Abaddon’s demons had followed him to the Ianson house leading it to be set on fire.

“So wait,” Dean’s coffee was empty now, and they were sitting in the war room, “you’re tellin’ me that _Jimmy Neutron_ in there is _psychic?_ ”

“Mm.” Sam nodded.

“A psychic that can read _demons’_ minds?” Dean asked, having trouble conceptualizing this.

Sam shrugged, “I watched him do it.”

“What the hell…” Dean muttered to himself.

“Well, I mean,” Sam frowned thoughtfully, “demons are just corrupted human souls, right? Maybe it doesn’t matter what form they take, I mean, maybe thoughts and consciousness aren’t only connected to our brains, maybe there’s something about our uh, _spirits,_ that also carries thought.”

Dean looked like he hadn’t heard a word of that. “Man, so that’s why he said ‘gross’.”

“Yeah.” Sam replied, then frowning, “What did you think?”

Dean’s eyes flickered over to him, brow furrowed. “I didn’t say it out loud for a _reason_ , dude.”

Sam raised his hands in surrender and they fell into silence.

“Sammy, I get it, really, I do, y’ feel like you _owe_ these people, but… but don’t you think you should’a, I don’t know… _talked_ to me about this before you invited three strangers to live in our house?” Dean asked.

Sam turned to look at him incredulously, only to find Dean was being completely sincere in this question.

“Did you talk to _me_ before you invited an _angel to live inside_ ** _me?_** ” Sam was suddenly so angry that he felt a bit of a flush in his face.

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes, “That’s _not_ what I meant—”

“—Oh, right, so what _did_ you mean?” Sam scowled.

“Alright _listen_ , it’s different when it’s the space where _both_ of us live!” Dean said, still keeping his voice level. 

“ _You made a fucking choice about_ ** _my body_** _. You_ ** _tricked_** _me into letting that_ ** _monster_** _in, and you’re gonna fucking tell me that_ ** _this_** _is a violation of your boundaries?! Of your_ ** _trust?!_** ” Sam shouted. “ _Kevin_ ** _died!_** ”

“ _I_ ** _know_** _that—_ ” 

“— _No, Dean,_ ** _enough!_** ” Sam snapped, standing up. “There’s nothing you could say that would make it better! So _please!_ _Stop._ _trying_.”

With that, Sam turned to go towards the kitchen. Dean opened and then closed his mouth, failing to come up with a reply. Just as he was reaching the columns, Sam paused.

“And you know what, Dean?” He glanced over his shoulder, “You want to make decisions alone, and go on _hunts_ alone and do _whatever the hell you’ve been doing for the past week_ alone, then _fine._ But don’t come back here thinking it’s just gonna _go back_ to the way things were after a little _break_. You want to make separate decisions, then that goes _both_ ways. _This_ is mine.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “It _sucks_ to have your boundaries trampled, _doesn’t_ it.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped, but his expression grew more furious. Without another word, Sam walked away. There were no further complications that evening—only an uncomfortable encounter with Cath in the bathroom, during which she just ignored him.

When Sam awoke the next day, he felt tense in apprehension of what would follow. Sam was an early-riser, but he was surprised to find someone else in the library already when he went in to work. Ian was at the desk in the center, headphones in and a computer open in front of him. Sam frowned, drawing closer to see he had some kind of music program open. As he approached, Ian glanced over at him.

“Mornin’.” He said simply, returning his focus to the computer.

“Morning…” Sam replied, a bit bewildered. “Do you usually get up this early?”

“Yeah.” Ian nodded.

“Did you have breakfast?” Sam asked.

“No,” Ian looked away sheepishly, “I didn’t know what was, uh, okay for me to eat.”

“Oh, man, come on.” Sam turned and led him into the kitchen, where Ian played sous-chef. 

Ian was a quiet but interesting kid. He asked a lot of questions, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to people. Sam wondered later if it was easier for Ian to focus when there was only one person thinking nearby.

Halfway through cooking, a figure shuffled into the doorway. Both Sam and Ian looked up to find a squinting Sadie, wearing one of the dead-man bathrobes over a t-shirt and a pair of purple, Hawaiian pajama shorts. She noticed them and began shuffling over to the table without a word, rubbing one eye and tugging the bathrobe closer with her free hand.

“Good morning.” Sam smiled, to which she only grunted in response. Ian elbowed him gently to get his attention.

“You’ve gotta give her like fifteen minutes or so. She’s in her _Ogg-_ state right now.” Ian smirked, holding the plate steady as Sam set a pancake down on it.

“ _Ogg?_ ” Sam let out a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s what our mom used to call it.” Ian smiled, “She’s been that way since she was little—she just needs food, and then she’ll be good.”

“What is she like a gremlin or something?” Sam joked, pleased when it made Ian laugh.

“No, but she _does_ get hangry.” Ian nodded, taking the plate over to the table and setting it down.

Sadie was leaning both elbows on the table, her head in her hands. Ian returned to Sam’s side, asking him where the silverware was, and then set the table. When he was done, Sam sat down with them, only a cup of coffee with him. After getting through about half of her first pancake, Sadie was willing to talk again.

“Where’s Cath?” She asked, addressing either or both of them—it was hard to tell.

“Um…” Ian’s eyes flickered from her at his side to Sam, across from her. “She went for a drive. To see… Mo.”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Sam shifted awkwardly in his chair, catching both of their attentions.

“Thanks for the food, Sam.” She said genuinely, “I was, uh, thinking I could start trying to organize what we got from the house into your storage if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure, I can help.” Sam nodded, “I, uh—how much of it did we get out?”

“Rough estimate? About twenty-five percent. Just under half of what uncle D stole was little instruments and shit, so _those_ are all gone. But I did only tell you to take from the shelves I hadn’t gotten to yet, so we should have most of the paper items from the archive.” She swallowed a bite of pancake, “I have the other fourth or so of the archive scanned on my external drives.”

“ _Drives?_ Plural?” Sam raised his brows, preparing to tease.

“Yes, absolutely.” Sadie replied very seriously, “You don’t wanna get caught with your pants down when one gets corrupted, man, always have a backup.”

“She has _two_ backups for one.” Ian interjected.

“That I do.” She nodded, emphasizing with her fork. Sam had trouble subduing a smile at her expense.

“Yesterday, she had to seriously force herself to get she and Cath’s _clothes_ first before the drives.” Ian added.

Sam let out a soft laugh, “Even after I told you to go get them?”

Sadie looked like she didn’t want to answer that.

“Yes.” Ian spoke for her.

“ _Ian!_ ” Sadie searched for some kind of response, then her shoulders slumped. “…I hate you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ian smirked, turning to look back at Sam, who was watching with an amused smile. “Uh, Sam, if it’s okay, I’d like to move to a room further away?”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Sam wore a concerned look, “Is… was there something _wrong_ with the one you slept in last night?”

“Oh, no,” Ian paused, then added, “it’s just a little… close to people. When I’m trying to sleep.”

“Ah.” Sam nodded, “Yeah sure, pal, take whichever room you’d like.”

Ian beamed and jumped up from his seat. He started walking quickly away when Sadie shot a pointed look at the back of his head, chewing her most recent bite slowly. Sam frowned, about to ask her what was wrong when Ian stopped. He turned back and sulked over to the table, grabbing his dishes and then putting them in the sink. When he was done he turned back to Sadie, raising and dropping his hands as if to say “are you happy, now?” to which she gave a nod. Ian then returned to his excited speed-walk, going to explore the Bunker.

For a moment, they were quiet, Sam smiling at her. “You just… you just told him to buss his plates with your mind, didn’t you?”

Sadie smirked at her plate. “Gotta make sure the kid has good manners.”

He frowned then, a thought occurring to him. “I thought… I thought you said that if he was in his own room, he wouldn’t hear people?”

“Mm.” She nodded, weariness showing as she took a moment to rub her forehead. “I dunno if it’s like _puberty_ or somethin’, but his powers are _all_ out of whack the past year or so. Sometimes he _can_ hear from another room, sometimes he _can’t—_ there are all kinds of fluctuations that are— _thus far—_ unpredictable.” 

“Huh.” Sam frowned thoughtfully.

Sadie sighed, “I mean, to be honest with you, I’m just making this all up as I go along—I have no fuckin’ clue what is or isn’t normal with psychic kids.”

“Who does?” He quirked a brow, trying to make her feel a bit better.

For a second, she just stared down at her plate, then she said, “My mom would’ve known.”

He froze, unsure of how to respond. With a resigned sigh, she sat up, going back to normal. He wondered how much of her life was taken up by Ian—how much time did she get to be herself? There were no immediate answers to these questions, so he moved forward. She washed the dishes for him, insisting that she could do it on her own. He sat in the kitchen and read, drinking coffee and looking up every once and a while as she asked where things went. When she was done, she went to get changed.

It took them a little while, but eventually, Sam, Sadie, and begrudging Ian moved all the filing boxes out of the cars. When they got to the garage, they found a messy pile of all the coats and shoes Cath had taken in her car, the sight of which made Sadie’s nose twitch in annoyance. Sam noticed this, but decided not to ask.

Now, they were in the library, having to look through all the boxes one at a time to figure out what exactly was in them, while a table down, Ian did stuff on his laptop. After jotting down the contents of another file, Sam tossed it onto his growing pile. He sat back in his chair, glancing across the table at Sadie, where she stood bent over her work. His eyes then moved on to Ian, and Sam wondered idly when he went to school.

“It’s Saturday.” Ian replied to the unasked question.

“Oh, right.” Sam nodded, returning his gaze to the files in front of him.

“What?” Sadie looked up. Sam opened his mouth to reply when Ian spoke.

“He was wondering when I go to school.” Ian slapped the spacebar aggressively, “And it’s online because I can’t hear people through the computer.”

“Oh.” Sam was unsure of what else there was he could say. With that, he returned to his work for another minute.

Ian stood abruptly, breaking the silence, “Can I go in the basement?”

Sam raised his brows, “Uh…”

“I just can’t _think_ with you guys thinking so close to me.” Ian explained.

Sam frowned and glanced across the table to Sadie, who was clearly deferring to him on this one.

“Oh—okay, uh, sure.” He fumbled, and with that Ian walked off.

“Thanks.” Sadie said to him.

“Sure.” Sam shrugged, really not bothered or inconvenienced in any way.

She returned her gaze to the file she was hunched over when her long necklace fell and _thwacked_ the edge of the desk. She sighed in aggravation and tossed the pendant over her shoulder, so she was wearing it backwards over her tank top. The shirt was thick stripes of alternating white and sky blue. It suited her—it looked nice with her eyes. It also meant her upper-arms were bare, and he could see a mass of scars all up her shoulder. Acne scars mostly, but also some long, curving cuts that were now silvery-pink, blending in with the rest.

“So, uh, what’s the, uh, program he’s using?” Sam asked, “Is he making music?”

Sadie glanced up, looking almost surprised that he’d asked. “Oh, uh, yeah, he is.” She nodded, rewarding his interest with a warm smile, “Couldn’t really pack up the instruments when we skedaddled, but he’s still got that so, he’ll be okay.”

“Does he play a lot?” Sam followed-up, again seeming to take her by surprise. “Of instruments, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah, he used to play the trumpet, and now he plays saxophone, as well as his first and main love: piano.” She smiled to herself, “We used to have a nice one—nothin’ too fancy, but a _real_ one, not a keyboard—and he crawled up there and started bangin’ on the keys when he was like… _three_ I wanna say?”

“A prodigy.” Sam joked.

“ _Psh!_ ” Sadie scoffed, “Nah. Just a nerd.”

Sam smiled at that. They slipped back seamlessly into work. Sam was getting used to her unbridled honesty when asked questions, but on top of that, since he now knew about Ian, things made a little more sense. Sadie cared about him a lot. That was why she couldn’t leave the house—she wouldn’t leave him.

“Why did you keep Ian a secret?” Sam asked after a couple minutes, the both of them now sitting, still across from one another. He noticed that when she read, her brow furrowed. She looked up, the frown she wore when reading melting away as she met his gaze.

“Well, he’s a pretty powerful psychic, if you haven’t noticed—which, I don’t _blame_ you for, he makes it _real easy_ for you to _forget_.” She gave a facetious smirk.

Sam let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as she smiled at him.

“But, yeah, uh it was because of a couple reasons.” Sadie nodded, eyes distant. “My mom used to help hunters that came through sometimes, and some of ‘em looked at us like we were…” She swallowed, forcing her voice to stay level, “…another thing they had to kill. So, uh, that’s the main one.”

The smile was gone from Sam’s face.

“Trust doesn’t come easy for me and Cath when it comes to Ian.” Sadie nodded, not looking Sam in the eye and instead just turning back to her work.

“Sadie?” He asked, testing to see if she was annoyed or if he could ask her another question. “You alright?”

She glanced up, and smiled, “I, uh, yeah, I’m okay. I’m a little worried about Cath, but otherwise, yeah, I’m good.”

“Is she alright?” Sam asked, “She must’ve gotten up pretty early, ‘cause I was out of bed at like seven.”

“Yeah, she and Ian are both early-birds.” Sadie sighed, continuing to organize as she answered his question. “If she went to Mo’s that means she’s helping on a hunt.”

Sam’s brows rose. “She… _she_ goes hunting but _you_ can’t?”

Sadie sighed, “Can’t make _her_ do anything.”

“Sadie—” He stopped himself from going in too hot and making matters worse. He cleared his throat and shifted, “This is, uh, going to maybe seem like a, uh, _odd_ question, but how old are you?”

“Not odd. I’m twenty-six.” Sadie replied, eyes trained on her work. Now, he was even more confused. “How ‘bout you?”

“Thirty.” He answered quickly so he could get back to the other topic, “Sadie, why do you… why do you let her _push you_ around? I mean, like, you could go anywhere— _do_ anything.”

Sadie smiled sadly at the table then looked up at him. With a sigh, she folded her hands on top of the folders in front of her.

“Cath’s biggest fear in the world is _losing_ Ian and I.” Sadie nodded, eyes flickering away as she continued, “After our parents… she just…” Sadie sighed again, “…she got hard. She learned how to fight, how to use weapons—the whole nine—and she taught me and Ian some too. ‘Doesn’t mean she feels any less afraid of losing us, though. No safety measure is enough—nothing makes her feel like we could survive without her around protecting us. She goes hunting every once and a while, just to get out of the house and to stay sharp. Though, she usually does it when she’s feeling particularly upset. Reckless.”

Sam made a face that said, “tell me about it”.

“Does Dean do that too?” Sadie asked, cocking her head.

“Well, Dean is reckless _all_ of the time.” Sam replied bitterly, tossing another file onto his stack. “Doesn’t matter _what_ I say, or _do_ , or how _old_ I am. He’s _always_ gotta do _everything_ by himself— _he’s_ always the one who knows what’s ‘ _gotta be done_ ’.”

Sadie sighed, looking on sympathetically, “Oldest siblings with childhood trauma.”

He frowned, lifting his gaze back to her. “I didn’t… I didn’t tell you that.”

“You didn’t need to.” She replied equivocally, “You’re hunters. Good people don’t get into hunting for no reason.”

With that, she returned her focus to her work, tapping a stack of files so all the papers were aligned. Sam blinked, finding that statement odd. He wanted to ask more, but he could tell he needed to give her a rest.

The next day, they decided to move the files she’d already organized into binders down to the dungeon. Sam also thought Sadie might like to look at the rest of the Men of Letters archive, which was a correct assumption. Sam was wearing a green plaid shirt that day, which she commented on, saying it looked nice. He was a bit taken aback, but she just tossed out the compliment like it was no big deal—not a second thought given to it. _He_ gave it a second thought. And then a third. _Fuck_ , why was he so self-conscious when people were nice to him?

The wealth of information in the Bunker fascinated Sadie, of course, so she didn’t hesitate to dive right into 7B. Throughout the first hour they were working in there, she continued to toss the necklace over her shoulder instead of tucking it in her shirt. When she did it for the third time that day, bending down beside him to examine the second shelf, he got a good look at the pendant. It was a ring, that looked like it was made of jade—green for one third and then fading into white—and on the inside was a band of silver. Sam squinted, noticing that there was writing inscribed inside the ring, but before he could make it out, she straightened.

“My _fuck,_ this place is dusty.” Her nose was wrinkled, making him chuckle softly.

“Yeah, sorry, I should’ve given more of a warning.”

“Eh.” She waved it off, then turned to look at the shelving behind them.

His eyes followed her, then fell to the track in the floor. He wondered if she would notice it—find the secret door to their dungeon. Her fingers trailed across dusty, water-damaged boxes and files, head tilted to the side and off in thought. She was a very tactile person, he was noticing—it seemed that, to her, everything had to be touched to be properly examined. Her shoe stepped on the metal track in the floor, which was when she finally tore her eyes from the items beside her. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she cocked her head the other way.

“Pull the shelf.” He said.

She turned, looking over her shoulder at him. He was still standing in front of the shelving where she’d left him, the open file he’d been perusing for the past couple minutes open in his hands, and a small, knowing smile on his face. For some reason, that look felt like a challenge, and with a smirk of her own, she turned back to the shelving. She raised an unsure hand, and grabbed the edge of a shelf in front of her, tugging carefully. It stuttered forwards, making her jump slightly.

“ _Pfft!_ ” Sam snorted, calling her attention to where he was beaming at her.

“Listen!” She tried to defend herself, but she was still smiling, “I’m a very _jumpy_ bitch, okay?”

In response, he only shook his head slowly, turning back to his file. Though he didn’t totally understand her sense of humor, he did find it strangely funny. She finished pulling the secret door open, and he looked over just in time to see the expression wiped off her face. She cocked her head again, then spun on her heel, marching back to the light switches, near the door. She watched as she tried the un-flipped switch, and the dungeon lights came on.

“Woah.” She said, just loud enough that he could hear. She walked back over, and when she came into view, she glanced over at him, “I was wondering what the other light switch was for.”

He smirked, “Yeah, Dean calls it our ‘ _dungeon_ ’.” Sam spoke the last word in that little haughty tone he took when he wanted to be judgmental and at once share in a joke with someone else.

She let out a soft laugh, “Apt description, I’d say.”

With that, she turned to walk in. Sam found himself following, setting the file down somewhere without looking. She walked right over to the shackles hanging off the wall, head tilted again and brow furrowed. Behind her, Sam pulled the other secret door open too. She turned to look over at him, as he leaned his shoulder against the shelves, watching her with arms crossed and a small smile on his face.

“Do you ever… _use_ it?” She asked, seeming sure that he would say no.

“Yeah, actually.” He nodded, to which her eyes went a bit wide. “Only _once_ so far.”

“What for?” She asked as he drew closer.

“Uh… to keep the king of hell imprisoned, actually.”

“Oh wow.” Sadie blinked, “Man, Mo wasn’t kidding when she said you guys were big-time.”

“ _Pft!_ ” Sam snorted, “I’m surprised you believed me—usually I have to give _proof_ for stuff like that.”

To that, she just gave him a long look. With a nod and a good-natured frown he replied,

“Fair enough.”

She smiled at that, “You’re gettin’ the hang of this, giant.”

“ _Pfft!_ ” Sam laughed, “ _You’re_ calling _me_ giant?”

“Hey, come on, now.” She said, “I’m five-eleven, you’re like twelve-foot- _nine_.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “So, you can tell when I’m lying.”

“Call it an educated guess.” She replied, “Ian can poke around in there, but I know people. A lot of times people look to the left when they’re lying, you know why?”

“No.”

“‘Cause we use our _right_ brain to conjure up images or _create_ things.” She began pacing slowly around, “When you’re trying to come up with a lie, a lot of people look to their left ‘cause they’re using their right brain. But, it also does help to have a brother who can figure it out the psychic way, too.”

Sam smiled, leaning back against the table. “So… what you’re _saying_ is you _trust_ me.”

She smirked, “What I’m saying is that you haven’t lied to me yet.”

For a moment, he just looked at her. “You didn’t say that like you thought I _would_ lie to you, some day.”

She shrugged a shoulder, “I don’t know you all-too-well yet, but I’d like to think you’ve got good intentions.”

 _Not always_ ,his brain thought without his permission.

“Tell me,” She began, cocking her head at him now, “how did you get into hunting? Was it just because your family was Men of Letters?”

“No, actually, uh…” He swallowed, “A demon killed our mom.”

She straightened, sympathy etched into her furrowed face.

“Our dad kind of went on a _crusade_ after that.” Sam nodded, “We spent most of our life living out of motels while he went hunting. I hated it. Always wanted a normal life. But then, I went to school, and the, uh, _same_ demon came and…” Sam forced himself to swallow, “…killed my girlfriend, too.”

He finally hazarded a glance at her from where he’d been staring at the floor. She looked a bit lost for words, but also concerned—she cared a lot about things.

He realized then that he’d never opened up to someone that quickly about this stuff before. He wondered vaguely, and only half-seriously, if she’d put a spell on him. Then, he realized that he was just returning the favor. She was completely honest with him whenever he asked her something—very rarely evasive, and never labeling a topic as out-of-bounds. She created an environment that was easier to share in, because of this.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” She murmured.

He nodded solemnly, unsure of what else there was to say. His eyes fell back to the floor, and they were quiet for a long moment.

“What did you, uh,” She scratched the back of her head and meandered over to lean on the table beside him, “what did you go to school for?”

“Uh, I was pre-law.” He nodded.

“Oh, wow.” She raised her brows, impressed, “What kind were you interested in?”

“I didn’t really know, to be honest.” He sighed, “I was kind of just figuring out as I went along.”

“Mm.” She nodded in agreement, crossing her arms too. “Where did you go?”

“Stanford.”

“Oh, _wow_.” She tilted away from him with a teasing smirk, “Alrighty, _Lawboy_.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “What about you? What would you have gone for?”

She sighed, thinking for a long moment. “I was always interested in psychology.”

“Really?” He was surprised.

“Yeah.” She nodded, “I think it’s interesting to think about how people work, you know?”

He gave a shrug, “Sure.”

“I mean, now I think I’d be better suited for like, _library science_ or something.” She sighed, seeming like this was a career she was settling on, as opposed to one she was excited for. “Would you believe me if I said that I wasn’t an organizer until I started organizing the library?”

“Frankly,” The corner of his mouth ticked up, “I’d believe practically anything you told me.”

This earned him a soft laugh. “Oh, you flatter me.”

“No,” He shook his head, “you’re just really honest.”

Something in his tone made her worried that this was a problem. She glanced over at him and he saw the look in her eye, moving immediately to settle her nerves.

“It’s not bad.” He said, “Just different. I don’t—… there aren’t a lot of hunters that are as open as you.”

“Oh.” She nodded, then shrugged a shoulder, “I guess I just never saw the point in lying when my mom could always tell. Besides, she and my dad actively encouraged us to speak our minds, you know? Open communication was key. If we disagreed with each other or learned something they thought was wrong, my mom would send my dad in,” Sadie let out a soft, amused breath as she remembered, “and he’d start having a conversation about it. He was a much better debater than my mom— _her_ words, not mine.”

Sam sighed wistfully. “Man, I wish my dad had been like that.”

He let out a humorless snort of a laugh. She glanced over at his profile.

“He was a, uh, Marine _._ ” Sam nodded.

“Oh.” Sadie glanced away.

He saw this and smiled. She had clearly formed a judgement about his father that she thought imprudent to share, just based on that information, alone. She took a moment then relaxed. Sam was seeing first-hand what Ian had told him about Isadora Eldredge’s parenting philosophy; Sadie was forcing herself to reserve judgement until she had all the facts. She was also, though, just a sensitive person in her own right, as he was learning. He decided that he didn’t want to talk about John Winchester anymore.

“That, uh,” Sam pointed to her necklace, “that ring, is it your mother’s?”

“Oh,” She uncrossed her arms and cupped the necklace in her open palm, holding it out for him to see, “No, it’s my dad’s actually. Cath has our mom’s.”

“Huh.” Sam frowned as if to say “fair enough”.

“They, uh, picked out each other’s rings.” Sadie let the necklace drop again, “It’s called ‘ _moss jade_ ’.”

“It’s very nice.” Sam said kindly, making her smile.

“My mom knew his taste really well—I’d be so nervous picking out something this important for my partner. But… they just… yeah, they just knew each other really well. They were a unit.” She paused for a moment, her face growing a bit somber. “I know it’s an odd choice for a man, especially in a time as… _unsympathetic_ as the eighties, but my dad didn’t care about appearances, really. He liked things that were beautiful, but he also only needed clothes that didn’t have holes in them and that was the end of it.” She sighed, “I wish I could be as self-assured as that.”

Sam snorted tiredly, “You and me both.”

She smiled, staring off in a daze, then added spontaneously, “The universe always takes the best people, doesn’t it.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s a roll of the dice, I know—everything is… chance. But still…” She shook her head slowly, “…sometimes it really feels like the universe is picking on you, specifically.” She looked up and met his gaze. “Do you ever feel that way?”

For a moment, he said nothing, then he sighed. He wasn’t sure what it meant for him to agree but he… he _did_ understand what she meant, to a certain degree. He did understand and it felt pretty shitty to exist with that thought. He wondered how often she contemplated like this—how often she accepted misery and just let herself be pulled along instead of fighting. 

Maybe it was easier in some sense. Maybe she felt like there were better things she could spend her time on, but from where he stood, she seemed to have nothing _but_ time. Maybe some people just weren’t fighters—maybe this is what it’s like for normal people. Maybe she was just doing her best, and that was all she wanted to offer—all she _could_ offer.

A figure darkened the doorway in front of them. They both looked up to see Dean standing there. Immediately, Sam straightened away from the table, expression hardening. He uncrossed his arms and began walking away from her. Sadie watched him pass by, staying still.

“Do you need something?” Sam asked, not looking at his brother and instead going straight back to the file he’d left behind.

Dean opened his mouth and then shut it. With a resigned nod he said, “You know what, never mind.”

Sadie remarked silently that he sounded tired. When he disappeared, she thought for a moment, then meandered over to lean on the shelving beside Sam. For a long moment, she just stared at his profile, head cocked and waiting for him to respond.

“What?” He asked, not angry or defensive. He knew that she wanted to say something, and she wouldn’t spit it out until he acknowledged her.

“Why’re you so mad at him?” She crossed her arms.

“Why’re you so mad at Cath?” He countered half-heartedly.

“Years of sibling resentment built up, I’m sure.” She replied facetiously, “Now, come on, what is it. You’re really puttin’ him through the grinder, aren’t ya?”

Sam sighed bitterly, “Well, he deserves much worse.”

Her mildly playful expression disappeared, replaced by one of deep concern. “Are you… are you okay, Sam?”

He heaved another heavy sigh, then launched into the story of what had happened to him over the past six months or so. By the end of it, they were both sitting on the floor, backs against opposite shelves and long legs stretched out in front of them. There was a moment of silence as she really took in all that he’d told her, a little frown in her brow. His eyes flickered up from the floor to look at her through his lashes. With a sigh, he lifted one knee, resting his forearm on it.

“It’s a lot, sorry.” He offered, trying to gage her reaction.

She shook her head, “No, no, it’s okay.”

He nodded, looking back down at the ground between his legs.

“I’m…” She finally met his gaze, “…I’m sorry, Sam.”

With a joyless smile, he nodded again, “Thanks, Sadie.”

“It’s…” She swallowed, unsure if what she wanted to say would be okay, “…it’s not your fault.”

Sam didn’t look up at her, just kept staring at the floor, unconvinced.

“You didn’t…” She ached for him, “…you didn’t have control.”

“Yeah, but I still have the memory of my hand on his forehead as his eyes got burned out.” Sam replied immediately, a bit more aggressively than he wanted to be with her. He shifted, “Sorry, I just—”

“—No, no.” She shook her head, “It’s okay. I didn’t think of it that way, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t really know why she was saying sorry there—if it was for misunderstanding or if it was for Sam having to dream of Kevin dying under his hand every night.

“I’m sorry that you have to live with that.” She said, looking up into his eyes, “I can’t imagine…”

Sam always found it bittersweet when people said that. On the one hand, it felt validating to have the person admit that he was the one who was experiencing it all, but on the other hand, it made it that much clearer that he was alone.

She opened her mouth to say something when a choked noise of pain escaped her. She hunched over herself, cradling her left arm. Sam sat away from the shelf.

“Sadie?” He asked, and when she didn’t answer, he put a hand on her shoulder, “ _Sadie?_ ”

“ _Ugh_ —” She forced herself upright, face scrunched up in pain. “— _Cath’s in—ugh—trouble._ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: VIOLENCE THAT MAY BE UPSETTING TO SOME READERS IS IN THIS CHAPTER  
> Also, the name "Isa" is pronounced like "ee-sa" (soft "s").

It was evening when Cath finally returned home. Sam, Sadie, and Ian were all sat around the war table, having finished dinner a couple minutes prior. As soon as Cath stepped into the Bunker, both Ian and Sadie tensed up. Sam glanced from Ian on his left, to Sadie across from them.

“Is—…” Sam frowned, “…are you guys alright?”

Ian swallowed, leaning closer to murmur, “ _Cath is back._ ”

Before Sam could reply, a figure appeared in the doorway to the kitchen hallway. They all looked up to see Dean there, cracking open a bottle of beer. When he caught all of them staring, he shuffled to a halt.

“What?”

Sam clenched and unclenched his teeth, electing to just ignore him, when another person came in the doorway. Dean glanced over his shoulder as Cath passed him. She was already wearing a scowl, and her left arm was in a sling. She came to a halt about five feet in front of her sister, who was staring up at Cath like a kid who missed curfew.

“I’m alive.” Cath stated flatly.

“What happened.” Sadie crossed her arms. Beside him, Ian let out a soft sigh that only Sam seemed to notice.

“I took care of it.” Cath replied, “I’m going to sleep now.”

She turned, moving to do just that when Sadie shot up out of her seat.

“What were you _thinking?_ ” She asked, more concerned than angry.

Cath stopped, her back still turned to Sadie.

“You could’ve gotten yourself _killed!_ ” Sadie’s chest was heaving, and she was trying her best to stay under control. Sam realized then that Sadie was just as terrified of losing her sister as Cath was.

“Well, I _didn’t_.” Cath looked over her shoulder, eyes then flickering over to Sam. “Did he get any other _houses_ burned down while I was gone?”

Sam’s fist closed on the table then Sadie replied, “ _Stop it_. Don’t evade.”

“How about you get off my case, huh?” Cath finally turned back to face her sister fully. Behind her, Dean leaned against the wall, taking a sip of his beer and watching curiously.

“You get off mine _first_.” Sadie replied through her teeth.

“Oh, _very mature_ , Sadie.” Cath narrowed her eyes, “ _I’ll_ get off _your_ case when you stop doin’ shit like _inviting_ ** _strangers_** into our _goddamn_ _house!_ ”

“ _Oh,_ ** _enough_** _about the_ ** _fucking HOUSE!_** ” Sadie suddenly shouted. Dean blinked, both he and Sam now wide-eyed.

“ _Enough with the_ ** _house?!_** ” Cath replied incredulously. She raised a hand, pointing to Sam, “ _That_ ** _idiot_** _brought_ ** _twenty_** _demons to our_ ** _home_** _and it got_ ** _burned to the ground!_** _What the hell do you_ ** _mean_** _—‘enough with the house’?!_ ”

“ _What’s done is_ ** _done!_** _We_ ** _can’t_** _get the house_ ** _back!_** ” Sadie cried, “ _And you know what, Cath?!_ ”

Ian’s eyes widened—he knew was she was going to say. “ _Sadie,_ ** _don’t_** _—!_ ”

“— _I’m_ ** _glad_** _that it did._ ” Sadie said, then crossing her arms. For a moment there was silence, all of them just sitting with her words.

“Oh, I _know._ ” Cath’s nose twitched, “Because _everything_ I do is to _torment_ you and _keep_ you down, right?”

“Don’t _start_ with me, Cath.” Sadie rolled her eyes, “I know you don’t think I’m _capable_ of living on my own—you don’t think I’m capable of doing _anything_ on my own!”

Ian rested his head in his hand, looking down as he called, “Cath, **_please_** don’t—!”

“—You’re right.” Cath said.

For a moment they were left in silence. Even Dean, who didn’t like the Eldredges much paused at that, frozen as though afraid to move and make them turn their attention on him.

“ _You think I_ ** _wanted_** _this?! To_ ** _live_** _like this?! To be_ ** _constantly_** _tied down?!_ ” Cath’s eyes brimmed with tears, “ _I had a_ ** _life_** _before mom and dad, and you think I’m_ ** _happy_** _that I had to give it all up?!_ ”

“ _Well, you could_ ** _try_** _being a little more_ ** _understanding,_** _then!_ ” Sadie cried passionately, “ _I never_ ** _got_** _to go to school—I lived in that house my whole_ ** _fucking_** _life and that’s because_ ** _you kept me there!_** ”

“Oh, _don’t even_.” Cath rolled her eyes, anger pushing sadness into the backseat.

“ _No,_ ** _you_** _don’t even!_ ” Sadie shouted, a tear slipping out of her eye, “ _I know_ —” Her breath hitched in her throat, “— _I know what this is_ ** _really_** _about._ ”

Cath’s brows rose, looking on at her sister judgmentally. “Oh, please _enlighten_ me, oh _wisened_ and _well-traveled_ one.”

“ _Cath…!_ ” Ian groaned, flopping back into his seat, both hands covering his face.

“ ** _Fuck_** _you._ ” Sadie spoke through her teeth, body trembling as she tried not to start sobbing. “I _know_ it doesn’t make you feel better when you say things like that, so _why do you still do it?_ How could it _possibly_ bring you happiness?”

“ _Who says we need to be happy?!_ ” Cath suddenly shouted, stepping closer to her sister, “ _We oughta just_ ** _grateful_** _that we’re_ ** _alive!_** ”

Sadie glanced away, wiping her cheek. Cath leaned to the side, trying to get into her line of sight.

“ _You don’t_ ** _need_** _to like me, and you don’t_ ** _need_** _to be happy, you just need to_ ** _stay out_** _of_ ** _FUCKING TROUBLE!_** ” Cath bellowed, taking a breath before lowering her voice to a normal volume. “Or is that _too hard_ for _you?_ ”

Something about that jab felt different than the rest. Sadie had no response for it. Her shoulders just slowly slumped, a shaky breath escaping her. She stared down at her sister, nothing left to say. Without another word, Sadie sped away into the library, presumably going to her room. Cath watched her with an angry scowl, her eyes betraying an almost imperceptible guilt.

When the door fell closed behind Sadie, they were left in silence. Cath glanced over at Ian and then to Sam, her face hardening. With a posturing roll of her eyes, she turned and marched past Dean. He blinked, watching her go with confusion.

“She’s going for a drive.” Ian supplied dejectedly, slumped in his seat and staring at his hands.

Slowly, both Sam and Dean turned to look at him. Ian slowly pulled his earbuds out.

“So, _yeah_ …” He looked _exhausted_ , “…we’ve got some… _issues._ ”

“Ya’ _think?_ ” Dean said gruffly.

Ian winced at that, lowering his gaze to his lap. Beside him, Sam shot his brother a dirty look. Dean rolled his eyes and turned, having had enough Eldredge drama for one day.

“Well, I’m gonna go.” Dean avoided dealing with Sam’s expression, “I’ve got an angel to hunt.”

With that, he left. Sam let out an exasperated sigh, then turned back to Ian. He was looking down at his hands as they fiddled with his phone. Sam was then overcome by a deep wave of sympathy.

“Ian, I’m…” He wasn’t sure what to say. “…I’m sorry.”

Ian frowned, glancing up at him and clearly confused by what Sam meant.

“It’s just—” Sam struggled to find the right words, “—it can’t be easy, having to watch your sisters argue.”

Ian didn’t respond, but Sam felt the urge to continue.

“I’m sorry you have to listen to them yelling like that.” Sam offered, earnest in his concern.

Ian’s eyes flickered up to Sam’s face.

Sam shook his head slowly, “I can’t imagine it’s any easier when you can hear all their thoughts, too.”

“Yeah. You’d _think_ that might make it _easier_ for me to _moderate_ but neither of them never _listens_ to me when I tell them _not_ to say things aloud.” Ian glowered at the table, looking very much his age, “Well, I guess it’s some progress—at least now they’re actually _talking_ about it.”

Sam cocked his head slightly. “What d’you mean?”

Ian sighed, “Whenever there’s a problem between me and Sadie, or me and Cath, we all sit down and talk about it, like mom and dad taught us. But, when it’s the two of _them_ that have a problem, it never really gets _fixed_ all the way. It’s like they just… _patch_ things. They won’t just talk about what they’re really upset about, so the tension stays there, under the surface, and nothing changes, and we’re just _not_ supposed to talk about it.”

“Why not?” Sam asked.

There was a moment of silence, then Ian glanced around cautiously. He took a deep breath, and then met Sam’s gaze again. “I can, um, show you, if you’d like.”

“Show me?” Sam frowned. 

Ian nodded, biting his lip nervously, “They’re upset about… other stuff. The arguing about the house and hunting is just… I dunno, something they argue about instead of talking about why they’re really upset.” He took a breath, lowering his voice a little, “I can, um, show you what they’re really, uh, upset about.”

“Like… like a memory?” Sam asked, “You can do that?”

“Yeah, um,” Ian shifted uncomfortably, “It’s a, uh—Sadie doesn’t know what to call it, but I have this thing where I, uh, sort of _store_ a vision that I got from an object?”

Sam frowned, “So like, you used your powers on something to get a vision and you then _saved_ that vision like to you’d save a file to a backup drive, or something?”

“Something like that.” He glanced up briefly at Sam, “It’s just the one vision, really. I cobbled it together from a couple different objects. I can just sort of remember an outline of what happens in other ones, but this one… it’s the full thing. Probably because…” He sighed, “…well, I’ll just show you.”

He scooted his rolling chair closer to Sam, who sat up a little straighter, unsure of what to expect.

“So, uh, when I was little,” Ian began, not looking in Sam’s eyes, “my dad let hunters come by and use the library for research, and my mom sometimes helped with the, uh, _psychic_ stuff, which you know. Mo referred some new ones to us that we didn’t know, and they’d visited earlier. Earlier in the day of what I’m going to show you. That’s all the background you need to know.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, when, without warning, two of Ian’s slender fingers were pressed to his forehead. It felt like being plunged into ice-water and at once surrounded by an endless night, while all the air was dragged from his lungs by an unforgiving vacuum. After a couple seconds, those sensations passed, and Sam was living in a memory. He was formless, and untethered—just drawn along by the narrative.

The Ianson house looked different than when he had first visited. There was more light, illuminating the dark staircase in a way that made its true indigo hue much more visible and vibrant. A woman came out of the living room, carrying a little boy in her arms. She had long, dark hair curling down to her waist, and soft, hazel eyes. Despite the minor differences in detail, she looked just like Sadie. He knew from the photos that this was Isadora Eldredge, their mother.

“Alright, baby-boy?” She cooed at the child, who couldn’t have been more than five. He yawned, and leaned his head against her shoulder, making her beam. “ _Oh!_ It’s okay! Let’s get you on to bed, huh, little E?”

She walked slowly up the stairs to the second floor, careful not to jostle him too much. Echoing through the house in her wake was the soft sound of her singing. Clearly, the boy was Ian, and he was barely able to keep his eyes open—the lullaby was already putting him to sleep.

Left behind in the living room was a young woman with a long, mousey-brown braid hanging down her spine. She was facing a bookcase, her back to the door, as she read something. Yawning, she turned around, moving towards an armchair. This was Cath, though it was a younger Cath with no scar on her face. Sam wondered vaguely what year this memory was from.

The image shifted, and he was seeing the office. A man in his early-forties was squeezed in beside a young Sadie. Sam also knew from photos that this was Tyler Ianson, their father. Sam then noticed, on the wall, a calendar that had all the days crossed out until _November 16th, 2004._ So, Cath was twenty-three, Sadie was seventeen, and Ian was four.

Under the desk, Sadie’s leg was bouncing up and down. She was waiting for her father to finish reading an essay she’d written, her eyes moving anxiously back and forth between the computer screen and his face. It was remarkable how much Cath and Ian looked like their father—thick lashes, narrowed eyes, and long, thin hands. Tyler frowned while he read, just like Sadie. After a moment, he leaned forwards, moving to make a correction.

“Here, this is passive voice, you see?” He highlighted something. She let out a sigh of exasperation, and he turned to look at her, immediately concerned. “Hey, honey, it’s okay!”

She flopped onto the desk, hiding her face in her arms. “ _Ugh_ … _!_ ”

Her father smirked despite himself, raising a hand to rub some soothing circles on her back. “It’s just the first draft, sweetheart, I wrote like _five_ for my college essay, it’s totally fine.”

“ _I know._ ” Sadie sighed, muffled slightly by her position, “ _I just wish I could_ ** _skip_** _this part!_ ”

“I know, sweetie.” Tyler smiled at that, giving her a couple gentle pats of encouragement. “Come on, though, let’s just get a little more of this done, and then we can come back to it tomorrow, okay?”

The image shifted suddenly, as someone knocked on the front door. Cath glanced up from her book, frowning slightly. The knock came again, a little more insistent this time. Sam noticed that there was only one lock on the door, and the chain didn’t look like it got much use. Cath got up, and walked over, opening it without looking through the peep-hole.

“Yes—?” She was cut off by the door being shoved all the way open.

Cath stumbled slightly and then was faced with the end of a shotgun. She froze, eyes wide. The man behind the weapon was filthy—dirt caked into his canvas coat and blood dried in his hair. He kicked the door shut behind him with his heavy boot.

“ _Move._ ” He snapped, pointing the gun towards the living room.

Cath raised her hands and nodded, quickly doing as he asked. She was noticeably silent, unable to speak in the face of danger. As she backed away into the living room, she failed to look behind her and tripped over the coffee table. She managed to stay on her feet, but there was a loud crash as a vase fell off, shattering on the floor.

“ _Everything okay out there?_ ” Tyler leaned out of his office door, calling to whoever just broke the ceramic decoration. 

When there was no immediate response, he walked out towards the front hall. The gunman spun wildly, pointing his gun at the newcomer. 

Tyler paled, his hands shooting up in surrender. “Buck? What are you doing—?”

“ _—Shut up!_ ” Buck interrupted, the gun quivering slightly in his hands.

“O—okay.” Tyler used his most soothing voice, taking a step closer, “There’s no need for anyone to get hurt, okay?”

“Get over there!” Buck snapped, jerking his gun towards where Cath was still standing, frozen at the far side of the living room.

“Okay.” Tyler nodded once, moving quickly and peacefully over to stand beside his daughter. “What is it that you want, Buck?”

“ _Shut up! Just_ ** _be quiet!_** ” Buck snapped, getting red in the face, “ _Tell me where the freak is!_ ”

Tyler and Cath both looked confused, frowning at him. Upstairs, Isadora emerged from Ian’s room, closing the door softly behind her. 

“ _The psychic!_ ” Buck shook his gun a bit, making Cath flinch. “ _Where is the freak?!_ ”

Isadora froze for a split second in the hallway outside Ian’s room, eyes wide. She forced herself to take a deep breath, then pulled a key off a side-table near her and locked his door. She looked around for a place to put the key, then decided to shove it under the door.

“ _Momma?_ ” Young Ian’s voice was a bit muffled. Isadora closed her eyes momentarily, willing her thoughts into his head.

_Stay inside your room. Do not come out under_ **_any_ ** _circumstances, do you understand me? You wait until me or your father or your sisters come to get you—no one else, okay?_

_Okay._

“Buck, there’s no need to—” Their father was cut off when Buck blasted a hole in the ground in front of Tyler’s feet. 

He jumped back, stumbling a bit, while Cath let out a small shout of surprise, hands going to cover her ears. Sadie flinched violently in the office.

“ _WHERE IS SHE?!_ ” Buck bellowed.

Sadie, still in the other room, began searching around frantically, trying to think of what to do. She looked out through the open door, into the corridor. Her eyes glided to the kitchen doorway, across the hall from the office, and then fell upon the block of knives clearly visible from where she sat.

“You’d better tell me where the _fucking_ _bitch_ is,” Buck menaced at Tyler, “or else I’m gonna _burn_ _this whole place to the ground, do you_ _und_ ** _erstand me?!_** ”

Isadora was running down the stairs. She came halfway down, then saw Sadie approaching from the hall.

 _SADIE ISADORA!_ She shouted silently, making her daughter jump. _HIDE!_

Sadie didn’t have time to respond. Isadora turned and thundered down the rest of the steps, calling out to get the hunter’s attention. Sadie stayed out of sight behind the staircase, unsure of what to do.

“ _STOP!_ ” Isadora ran in, scrambling to get between the gun and Cath. “ _I’m here!_ _I’m here._ ”

Buck shifted his weight. “ _About time_.”

Isadora swallowed, her eyes lowering for a split second before returning to the hunter. “I will go with you peacefully if you let my family live. You don’t need to hurt anyone but me, okay?”

“ _Isa!_ ” Tyler balked beside her. She waved him off, not taking her eyes from Buck.

“ _Please_.” She said, speaking only to the hunter.

“Not gonna happen, lady.” He hissed, raising his gun higher, “Gotta take out the _whole_ nest. Just wanted to make sure I got you _first._ ”

“Wait! _Wait!_ ” Isadora insisted, “I’m the only one!”

Buck’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re sayin’ none of your little ones came out a _freak?_ ”

“ _Yes!_ ” Isadora nodded adamantly, “It’s just me— _please._ ”

Buck stared at her for a moment then shook his head. “No, I don’t believe you—”

“— _Please!_ There’s no need for anyone to get hurt here!” Tyler stepped in front of his wife, still with hands raised. “We haven’t done anything to hurt anyone, _please_.”

“No, you haven’t. _Not yet._ ” Buck’s eyes flickered to Cath, standing behind her parents, “But _filth_ like _you_ is _bound_ to start killing’ at _some_ point.”

“That’s _not_ true, please, just _listen_ —”

Tyler never got to finish that sentence. 

Buck pulled the trigger, only standing about a foot from his target. Tyler went flying backward, knocking Isadora to the ground. Like dominos, Isadora bumped into Cath on the way down. Behind the staircase, Sadie flinched violently. 

Cath tried to catch herself on the bookcase, but couldn’t get a good grip. She stumbled, falling forwards and smacking her face on the radiator. There was a soft _dong!_ as her skull collided with the metal, and then she was on the floor, completely in a daze. Sadie was frozen in her hiding spot—she clearly knew what had happened. 

Buck began re-loading his gun, his eyes trained on Isadora as she gathered Tyler into her lap. Tears fell from her face onto his. He was rigid and pale.

“ _Ty…?_ ” She barely breathed, one hand holding him in her lap while the other brushed the hair off his forehead. Above her, Buck cocked the gun.

“ _Get up_.” He spoke through his teeth, aiming the shotgun at her head.

Isadora cupped Tyler’s face in both hands now, staring down into his glassy eyes—growing cloudier with each passing moment. Behind her, Cath rolled over, clearly dizzy and unable to focus, her face covered in blood.

“ _GET_ ** _UP!_** ” Buck bellowed at Isadora, the gun quivering in his hand.

Isadora didn’t seem to hear him—all of her was focused on her dead husband. Behind her, Cath reached up, trying to use the radiator to pull herself into a sitting position. 

“ _I swear to_ ** _god_** _, you_ ** _freak!_** _STAND UP!_ ”

“ _M—mom—?_ ” Cath groaned, trying to force her head to stop spinning.

Isadora looked up at the sound of Cath’s voice, following it to stare into her daughter’s eyes. Sadie finally peered out around the staircase, a knife glinting in her trembling hand. Isadora looked at Cath and smiled the most miserable and simultaneously tender smile possible.

“ _Fine. Have it_ ** _your_** _way._ ” Buck snapped.

Sadie’s eyes widened and she lurched forwards. Buck pulled the trigger.

Cath, bleary and blood-soaked, flinched back as Isadora’s brain was splattered all over her. She gasped, her whole body shuddering. Isadora’s limp corpse flopped to the ground, nothing but a mangled stump where her head had been. Cath let out a choked noise, almost like a scream that she couldn’t bear to finish. She was paralyzed under the debris, eyes trained solely on her mother. Sadie stood frozen behind the gunman, unable to look away from her dead parents. Her shoulders rose and fell with her heaving breaths

The floorboards creaked as Buck took a step forwards. Cath’s gaze snapped from her parents to him, only able to keep one eye open.

“‘ _Gotta be sure…_ ” Buck muttered to himself, poising the gun to shoot Cath too, “… _Can’t leave a single one behind…_ ”

Cath shuddered, scooting away slightly from him out of instinct. He cocked the gun again. A blood-curdling scream ripped through the air.

“ _NO!_ ”

He turned to glance over his shoulder. Sadie stood there, unmoving in the doorway, with the knife in her hand, and her whole body quivering. There were tears staining her face and no color in her cheeks. Slowly, her grasp on the knife tightened. Buck turned to face her fully, raising his gun.

“ ** _D_** _on’t—!_ ” Cath managed to choke out desperately, reaching towards her sister.

Sadie’s whole body shuddered as she began hyper-ventilating—at her side, her empty hand shook violently. Buck went to shoot again when suddenly he froze. He let out a grunt, wincing, his finger quivering as it hovered over the trigger.

“ _You—!_ ” He strained, trying to speak.

Sadie was absolutely hysterical. She couldn’t take one, satisfying breath in between full-body sobs. Buck moved a hand from his gun, going to hold his forehead. Cath slowly went stiff, eyes wide. 

“ _Sadie…?_ ” She breathed, gaze flickering back and forth between her sister and the gunman.

“ _AGH!_ ” Buck bowed his head for a moment, then looked up at Sadie again.

Blood was flowing out of his nose at a rapid pace, spilling out onto his upper-lip and staining his teeth. The sight of him only seemed to make matters worse. Sadie’s face wrinkled with disgust under her uncontrollable tears.

Buck let out a shout of pain, his hand going to cover his upper-arm. Scarlet started to stain the fabric under his palm. With little time to recover, an invisible blade sliced open a cut on his face. It was long, drawn-out, and deep. He screamed, falling to his knees in front of teenage Sadie.

Cath shoved herself up, stumbling over to wrap him in a messy head-lock. Beneath her, he writhed and screamed, but seemed overall unaffected by her choke-hold. A flap of Buck’s skin started to curl away from his face, like someone was skinning him alive—except nothing was touching him. Cath gasped, looking from him to her sister.

“ _SADIE!_ ** _STOP!_** ” She screamed, a horrified expression on her face.

Sadie didn’t seem to hear her. She was shaking with fury, running out of water to produce tears. Her eyes were locked on his face—she seemed unable to see anything else.

“ ** _SADIE!_** ” Cath bellowed, looking from her back to Buck, who was now crying himself.

“ ** _Please_** _—_ ** _!_** ” He begged, mad with pain.

They were answered by an almost animalistic scream—Sadie didn’t need words to convey what she meant. It was miserable and wounded, and so, **_so_** angry.

Cath looked frantically back and forth between them for a moment. Sadie’s gaze was locked solely on her victim, her body trembling. Cath’s eyes fell to the knife in her sister’s hand. Another choked cry of pain escaped Sadie, her whole being shuddering with the force of it and a fresh set of tears spitting out onto her cheeks. Cath’s face hardened.

She shot to her feet, snatching the knife away from Sadie before turning on her heel and plunging it into the spot where Buck’s neck met his collar bone. She buried it almost to the hilt, staying close to her victim. Now that Cath was blocking her view, Sadie awoke from her daze. She stumbled back, falling against the doorway—she seemed to be having trouble keeping her eyes open.

“ _Oh, god_ …” She muttered, almost sighing with relief. It was the wrong sound to make, but she didn’t seem to have control over herself.

Cath, oblivious to Sadie’s struggles, leaned closer to Buck’s face, staring him right in the eye. She didn’t speak a word, just twisted the blade in further. He coughed, making blood splatter across her already blood-soaked face. Cath didn’t flinch. Her dark, focused, and unemotional expression never wavered or strayed as she waited for him to die.

It took a minute, but finally, he had suffered enough for her liking. She shoved his limp corpse away, leaving the blade inside of his neck. She stood fully, a bit weak on her feet. Her eyes finally tore themselves away from the dead intruder, only to fall upon what was left of her parents. A shudder rocked through her, and for the first time that night, a tear slipped out onto her blood-soaked face.

“ _Oh… oh god…_ ” She shifted slightly in place, really taking it all in for what seemed like the first time.

There Cath stood, in the middle of her wrecked living room, surrounded by bodies, and with her face painted in the blood of her victim and her mother, as well as her own. She took a deep, uneasy breath, trying to calm down, trembling slightly with the effort of swallowing any sobs. There was a _thump_ behind her. She spun on her heel to see Sadie laying on the floor.

“ _Sadie!_ ” Cath shouted desperately, running to her sister.

Sadie’s whole body was limp, and she could barely keep her eyes open for two seconds. She reached up blindly. Cath caught her by the wrist, tugging her onto her feet. Sadie stumbled, unable to hold herself up.

“ ** _Chr_** _ist—!_ ” Cath cursed under her breath, wrapping both arms around Sadie’s ribs and tugging her to an armchair.

With little-to-no finesse, Cath dropped her into the seat. Sadie’s head lolled to the side, laying on the back of the chair. She forced a ball of spit down in her throat, heaving her breath through her nose. Cath squatted down beside her, putting a hand on Sadie’s leg to try and get her attention.

“Sadie?” Cath asked, voice cracking slightly with desperation.

Sadie did not answer. Cath used the hand on her knee to try and shake her into full-consciousness.

“ _Sadie?!_ ” She cried, on the verge of tears.

“ _Cath…_ ” Sadie had a dopey look on her face.

Cath let out a sigh of relief, bowing her head for a moment.

“ _…It feels…_ ” Sadie let out a noise of contentment. Cath looked up at her sister, shaken by that sound. “ _…agh, Cath, I…_ ”

Cath stood, urgently cupping Sadie’s face in her hands. “Sadie, what the hell?!”

“ _…’ M_ ** _fine_** … _!_ ” Sadie slurred, swatting lazily at her sister’s hand. “… _’m good._ ”

Cath couldn’t stem the horrified look she wore, staring at her sister. She swallowed thickly, and turned away, looking at the scene. Her breathing became more labored.

“ _Oh god…_ ” She murmured, looking at Buck’s unmoving and mutilated body. “ _Oh god, Sadie, what have you_ ** _done?!_** ” Cath hissed, turning back to her sister.

Sadie was too far gone in a daze to answer. At this point, she was lucky to even open her eyes slightly, let alone _keep_ them open. Cath straightened away from Sadie, and then began moving things around—at some point, she started muttering aloud to herself.

“It’s fine—you’re gonna tell them… tell them that he showed up with the cuts, yeah… oh god, what about the knife?” She used the back of her sleeve to messily wipe her nose, “Can’t let them take her… Can’t let them take her… Can’t let them…”

Sadie’s head lolled to the opposite side, her eyes straining to focus on Cath. Sadie needed to swallow, but even that proved to be a hassle. With a sigh, she let them fall closed again and decided to stop trying to stay conscious. Everything was going dark, and then a voice spoke in her mind, clear as a bell.

_Sadie?_

Her eyes shot open. 

Cath, still hunched over the dead man and panicking, raised one bloody hand to grip her hair roughly. Sadie stood up from her chair, and stumbled, catching herself on the doorway. At this point, Cath was too-far lost in an anxiety-driven fugue-state to notice her sister leaving.

Sadie fumbled her way up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister. When she reached the top, she slammed into the wall with a loud _thunk_ , using it to help her stay upright. Her shoulder slid against the wallpaper as she moved towards Ian’s bedroom door.

“ _Ian…?_ ” She slurred, her hand trying the knob.

Finding that it was locked ignited in her a rush of adrenaline. She shook the handle roughly, eyes wide.

“ _Ian?!_ ” She shouted, head less foggy now.

“ _Sadie?_ ” A small voice called back, a quiver of fear in it.

“Yeah, Ian, it’s me!” Sadie pressed a hand to the door, still slurring a little. “I’m gonna need you to get under your covers, can you do that?”

“ _Okay_.”

She waited a moment, “Are you in?”

“ _Yes!_ ” He replied, a little more muffled than before.

Without another word, Sadie took a step back and raised a foot. The door slammed open, spitting large splinters of wood all around the room. Sadie lowered her leg, chest rising and falling heavily with each breath. Forcing herself to swallow, she stepped over the threshold and turned to her right. There, under the covers, a tiny form was quivering. She could just barely make out the sounds of muffled sobs, and in that second, everything else disappeared. She fell to her knees beside the bed, a hand reaching out to hold his shoulder through the covers.

“ _Ian?_ ” She murmured, a tear of her own sliding down her cheek. “ _Ian, are you okay? Ia_ —” 

“— ** _IAN?!_** ” A familiar voice broke through to Sam’s ears.

Ian’s fingers quickly retracted from Sam’s forehead as he shot to his feet and spun around. Behind where he’d been sitting, he found Sadie standing at the top of the library’s steps. She looked from Sam back to her brother, an incredulous expression on her face.

“ ** _What_** _are you doing?!_ ” Sadie asked her brother, looking horrified and pale.

Beside Ian, Sam was to catch his breath and re-center himself—it was jarring, to be pulled from the past like that. 

“I—” Ian tried to begin, but she cut him off.

“ _—Enough!_ ” She snapped, voice unsteady like she might cry. She raised a hand to point at the hallway leading to the kitchen. “ _Go to your room!_ _Now!_ ”

Ian let out a small sniffle and then ran away to do as she commanded. When his foot disappeared around the corner, Sadie turned to Sam, who was breathing heavily and trying to catch up. He collected himself a bit, and slowly his gaze moved from what was in front of him to where she stood. Their eyes met. All color was drained from her face, and she was breathing heavily.

Without another word, she turned and bolted out of the room, presumably back to her own bunk. Sam blinked, still trying to catch his breath.

***

There was a lot Sam didn’t understand about what Ian had shown him. For starters, he didn’t know of any hunter named Buck who died like that, but, then again, he didn’t know every hunter that had ever existed. In the silence that followed Ian and Sadie’s abrupt departures, Sam, knowing he was the type who stressed less the more he knew, started doing research.

He found a couple articles written about the murder and gathered some more information from his hunter-contacts about the man. His name had been Buck Bligh, and, by all accounts of other hunters who knew him, he had been relatively stable. That was until Sam looked into his criminal record, which was _rife_ with assault charges he was dodging. He had also been wanted for questioning in three mysterious deaths in the years before he was an active hunter.

Sam leaned back in his chair, thinking. It made a lot more sense now—why Cath hated him so much. It wasn’t just that he threatened the safety of her family, or caused the destruction of their home, or was a man, it was also that he was a hunter. He was a hunter, and his parents had been hunters and one set of grandparents had been too. Cath grew up meeting hunters all the time, where her parents provided a great service to them, and then, they were repaid for their work in the worst possible manner. Every morning, Cath would wake up, look in the mirror, see that scar on her nose and be reminded of that night. No wonder she was so nervous about losing her siblings—she was so scared of them getting hurt that she was now doing some of the hurting.

A door creaked behind where he sat at a library desk. He glanced up casually to find Sadie standing there, eyes still a bit red and cheeks patchy.

“Hey,” He sat up a bit, voice unconsciously tender.

She forced herself to swallow, then looked down at the ground, “If you want us to leave I understand, we’ll just need some time to find another place—”

“—Hey, woah, woah, woah,” He stood, walking slowly over to her, “I’m not kicking you out, Sadie.”

She turned her head away, trying to keep herself from crying again. “You should know,” She sniffed, “that I don’t do it. I’ve never done it again, and I didn’t mean to—”

“— _Hey,_ ” Sam put both hands on her shoulders, “you were traumatized, I don’t… I don’t _blame_ you, I don’t want you gone. I told you, you guys could stay here as long as you need, remember? I’m, you know, not trying to break promises.” He finished with a little laugh, trying to reassure her.

She nodded weakly, still avoiding his gaze. His hands slid from her shoulders. He then paused, crossing his arms and shifting nervously in place.

“Besides, I’m not—” He swallowed, “—I, _of all people_ , am not allowed to make any judgements about you, Sadie.”

Cautiously, her blue eyes flickered up to his face.

He shook his head woefully, glancing down at their feet. “I’ve done… I’ve done _a whole lot_ worse to a whole lot more people, so… you have nothing to explain or _justify_ for _me_.” He met her gaze, “And I… I understand…” He swallowed then forced himself to finish the sentence, “…I understand what it feels like to have something in you that… that makes you feel like you’re a monster.”

She didn’t say anything to that, but there was no need, anyhow. As she stayed there, head bowed in front of him, a tear fell from her eye and onto the floor. He decided to side-step.

“Did you… did you sense that Ian was showing me something?” Sam asked, still trying to figure out how their family’s power worked.

She swallowed thickly, nodding. “It upsets him a lot when he watches the vision again. I can, um, feel it when he’s upset.”

“Oh.” Was all Sam could think to say.

Sadie swallowed, avoiding his gaze as a tear fell out of her eye. “When… when he re-plays the vision, he gets _so upset_ , but…” She shook her head, “…but what I did…” Her voice lowered to barely above a whisper, “ _…that scares him the most. …_ ** _I_** _scare him._ ”

“ _Sadie_ …” Sam put a hand on her upper arm.

“I—” She sniffed, trying to force herself to stop crying and get it together. “—I don’t do it. I’ve never done it again.”

“I know, I believe you.” He nodded.

“It’s…” She swallowed, “…all they ever wanted to do was help people.” She continued looking down at her hands, “All they ever did was help, and then how did I repay them?”

Sam frowned, understanding that she was talking about her parents but upset that she was blaming herself for something so far out of her control. “It wasn’t your _fault_ , Sadie.”

She shook her head stubbornly, “I hesitated. I froze. I should’ve gone in sooner—shouldn’t have waited for—” She stopped herself, forcing another ball of spit down, “Cath hates me for it. Always has, always will. She hates me because she thinks I’m a monster. She thinks I’m just as bad as… just as bad as him.”

“Sadie, I’m sure that’s not true—”

“—Did you see me after?” She asked, looking up into his eyes desperately.

He nodded, unsure of where she was going, and honestly a bit nervous about how worked up she was getting.

“Do you know why I was faint like that?” She continued, eyes brimming with tears, “ _Because it felt so good_.”

Sam blinked, leaning back slightly in surprise. He hadn’t expected that.

“Using whatever power it is, whatever I have, it…” She shook her head slightly, “…it gets me high. It feels _incredible_.”

For a moment, they were silent.

“ _And that scares you, doesn’t it?_ ” Sam murmured, calling her gaze back up to his face. Something in it betrayed to her the fact that he knew from experience.

Her head slowly tilted to the side, both of them staring at each other for a couple seconds. Then, she nodded ever so slightly, nervous to admit it.

“I know a little about how that feels.” He found himself saying. A humorless smile tugged at his weary features, “I have… done a lot of things I regret, but… but I did something. Something that made me feel really good too.”

Her eyes paid such close attention to his face as he spoke—it made him feel examined. He wanted to be unseen when he talked about this stuff.

“I just didn’t have the strength to say ‘no’ after the first time.” He finished finally, meeting her gaze with a joyless smile.

She shook her head, “It’s not about _strength_ , Sam.”

He smiled sadly at that.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He sighed, slowly sliding his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “It’s just funny that when I try to help you, I only end up talking about myself.”

“I don’t mind.” She let out a similarly unamused snort. “It’s easier to help other people with their problems than it is to face your own. So, yeah, I don’t mind talking about you at all.” Her eyes briefly met his then flickered away, “Anything to distract from the things we can’t fix.”

He took a deep breath, watching her face. Those words echoed in his ears, poignant and inescapable.


End file.
